Stacey pulled the curtains on the outside world as it grew dark, knowing just how much she would miss this place when she left. She loved her flat. It was in the best position, had the most beautiful view, and a lot of her time recently had been spent just aimlessly gazing out to sea. It had a calming effect on her, and the times when she'd felt particularly down, she'd taken to walking along the headland to a secluded spot she'd found in the rocky cliff face, where she could sit alone and think. She could spend hours there, sometimes completely entranced by the sound and motion of the sea, mesmerised by the vast distance of nothingness, curiously wondering about what secrets may lie deep beneath the waves.
It was like a drug - a form of escapism that gave her that free feeling, devoid of emotion for the time it held her in its spell, and the moment it was gone, she crashed back to reality, and had begun to wonder if the trips to her spot were really a good idea, as she'd come to understand how easy it could be for someone, who'd given up on life, to just throw themselves over the edge to end it all, and rid themselves of their problems forever.
Walking away from the window, Stacey felt a strange kind of sadness come over her. Why was she feeling like this when she should be so happy? Wasn't this the best thing that could have happened to her? Her whole life was about to change direction.
Lee hadn't been able to see Stacey at all since they'd made their plans, but he'd called her every night. He was happy with the way things were going. Everyone had been cooperative – even the vicar, who, after hearing their story, wanted to help them all he could. He agreed that a simple private ceremony would be the best in their circumstances. And after giving them a short lecture on love, marriage, and the rearing of good healthy Christian children, he found a place to marry them in just two weeks time.
Claire was in her seventh heaven and raced around ordering flowers, dresses and rings. She arranged her bridesmaids, and found a nice little restaurant to hold the reception in, and booked a room at the Park Hyatt for their wedding night, seeing as they couldn't afford to go away. You name it - she had done it. Quickly, efficiently and yet on the small budget they had.
Lee was spending all his time round at Bob's, having told Claire that he'd taken on double shifts for the next two weeks to earn extra cash, so he'd be working virtually non stop up until the wedding. At first, she hadn't been too pleased about that as they hadn't spent any time alone since they'd got back together – let alone slept together – but felt, in the long run, he was doing it for her – for them, and if they stayed apart for the next two weeks, it'd make their wedding night even more special.
Stacey, meanwhile, just had to carry on and wait for the day to arrive. She worked as usual during the day and waited in at night for his calls. She felt the occasional stab of guilt for what they were about to do but pushed it to the back of her mind preferring to ignore it.
Tonight was Lee's buck's night, and Claire had opted for a kitchen tea cum baby shower at home.
Stacey, to keep herself occupied, had set the evening aside to put her plans into motion, and had invited Katie over for a talk, having decided to use 'John' as the reason she was going away.
Noticing the time, she began to clear up. She'd spent the whole day clearing out her cupboards and couldn't believe the junk she'd gathered in the short time she'd been there.
Sat in front of her on the bedroom floor was a pile of things she planned to take with her and an even bigger pile for the bin. The rest of the stuff that was too big or heavy at this stage, she'd leave for her parents to pick up once she'd gone. She'd have to ring them to let them know what had happened – the next daunting thought. Her stomach turned with nervous tension as the next worry entered her head. What was she going to tell her parents? She couldn't possibly tell them the truth - they'd go crazy. Especially after the dramas they'd had with her wanting to leave home in the first place. They'd bought her that flat in Coogee so she could be close to work and friends, and now she was upping and offing at the drop of a hat to go away with a guy she knew they most certainly wouldn't approve of. It was a nightmare, and the only thing that made her feel any better about it was the fact that they'd easily rent the flat out.
Pushing all the guilt to the back of her mind, she got up, tying a knot in the huge garbage bag she'd crammed full of old clothes and dragged it through to the kitchen. The Salvation Army could have it in the morning.
The hardest things to know what to do with, was all the old 'memories' she'd kept from Alan, her ex-boyfriend. There were birthday cards, Christmas cards, Valentine cards, friendship cards; then there were the other bits and pieces one hangs on to, for the oddest of reasons, like old bus tickets, train tickets, movie tickets, zoo brochures, stuffed toys and the like. They all had their own special meaning at one time, but sparked nothing in her now as she looked at them.
She picked up an old photo album, and deciding not to flick through it, placed it in the suitcase with the other things she would be taking with her. She then gathered the rest of the memorabilia together and stuffed it into the bin, deciding that was the best place for it – that was where the past belonged.
Stacey pushed her case back under the bed and replaced the bin in the kitchen before going back to finish tidying up. She leaned across the bed to close her bedside drawer when she noticed, wedged between the compartments, a piece of paper. A small embarrassed smile crossed her lips as she remembered the poem she'd written after her first night out with Lee.
How could she have overlooked that? He'd given her his phone number on the back of a cab charge slip and had told her to keep it safe. She had. That night, as soon as she'd got in, she'd put it straight into her bedside drawer. She'd climbed into bed hoping to dream of him but had been unable to sleep. She'd lain awake for hours just thinking about him, knowing, as things stood, nothing could ever be between them, and it had depressed her.
Finally, she'd sat up, taken the phone number from the drawer and just looked at it, wanting to hold it – it was all she had of him. She then took up a pen and doodled in the corner a heart with an arrow through it, with an outline of Australia at one end to symbolise her, and at the other end an outline of the UK to symbolise him ... she then began to write a poem.
Tonight I Spent Some Time,
With Someone I'd Like To See,
As something Special In My Life,
But That Could ...
Suddenly the phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts, and immediately her eyes shot to the clock. It was five to eight. It had to be Lee.
She scrambled to her feet and ran to the lounge room, where she snatched up the phone. 'Hello?'
'Hi.'
It was Katie.
Stacey sank down on the sofa, looking as disappointed as she'd sounded, and put the poem down beside her. 'Oh, hi.'
Katie felt sorry for her, noticing her tone straight away, thinking she must have thought it'd be John. 'You alright?' she asked. 'You sound awfully down.'
'Yeah, I'm fine,' she answered sullenly, wondering why she was calling. She was due there in five minutes, and hoping she wasn't cancelling on her at such short notice, asked, 'what is it, what are you calling for. You're still coming, aren't you?' She couldn't have handled another night in on her own.
'Yes, yes,' she assured her, 'it's just that Troy's had a change of plans tonight. You don't mind if he comes round too, do you?' She felt pretty uncomfortable asking since it was supposed to be a girlie night in. ' ... It's just that he's pretty hungover from last night, and when I told him I was coming round yours, he wanted to come to check out your CD collection for some stuff to record.'
Stacey let out a silent groan. If she was going to pull this lie of hers off successfully, she'd prefer not to have him sitting there listening – but what could she say? ' ... So long as he won't be too bored. I'm not the best company at the moment.'
'No, no, he won't be bored.' Then lowering her voice, she spoke quietly into the phone. 'Listen, I ended up having to tell him about you and John,' she confessed. 'He wanted to know why you haven't been out and what tonight was all about. He was fine about it. No one's judging you, Stacey. So you fell for a bastard, these things happen, they all feel more sorry for you than anything else.'
Stacey gathered by that statement that Katie spread the word further than just Troy and shrugged her shoulders. 'I don't give a shit who knows anymore,' she then told her, tonelessly, quite obviously not happy about the fact it was out.
'Don't say it like that, Stace. It's just that everyone's been asking, and I think you're being too hard on yourself.'
'I said, I don't care anymore!'
Katie nodded to herself knowing to quit there before she annoyed her further by trying to explain herself. 'So we'll be there in about ten minutes, okay?'
'Okay.'
She hung up.
It seemed a lot less than ten minutes later when they were knocking on the door. Stacey went to let them in, putting on an extra long face.
Katie was her usual overdramatic self and threw her arms around Stacey in a way that thoroughly embarrassed Troy as he waited outside the door.
'Oh, Stacey,' she gushed. 'I'm so sorry it turned out like this. I don't know what to say.'
Nor did she, so she said nothing.
Katie held her at an arm's length and looked at her, narrowing her eyes. 'What a bastard, eh! Have you seen or heard anything from him since?'
Stacey shook her head as if just having to accept it. 'No, but then I really didn't expect to. Inevitable really, wasn't it.'
Troy forced a smile, not feeling particularly comfortable with this sort of 'girly' stuff, and kept it short. 'Good riddance to bad rubbish, that's what I say.'
Stacey let him mess up her hair and shut the door behind them as they went through to the kitchen.
Katie handed Stacey a bottle of wine and began looking for glasses while Troy found room in the fridge for his six-pack, and then after opening one, left the girls to talk and went out onto the balcony to look at the view.
'So you're gonna go to your parents for a couple of weeks, are you?' he heard Katie say. 'It'll probably do you good to get away for a bit. You haven't been to their new place yet, have you?'
Troy was most impressed with the view, and when he came back inside, he admired the rest of the flat and its furnishings. How lucky was she to have parents with a bit of cash to set her up like this? She'd got it made, no rent, no mortgage - only daughter syndrome, he then told himself. Not many people were lucky enough to get a start like that.
He stopped by the CD player, wondering who this was they were listening to, and lifted the CD case sat on top of the speaker ... Neds, what? Neds Atomic Dustbin? Who the hell were they when they were at home? He caught Stacey's eye over the breakfast bar. 'Who's this?' he asked with a frown.
'The Neds.'
Katie smirked, knowing Stacey had an odd taste in music.
'They're English. Haven't you heard of them before?'
He shook his head. 'No. I think I'd have remembered a name like that.'
He continued to look through her CD's, the frown not leaving his forehead – Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine, Happy Mondays, Stone Roses, Inspiral Carpets, Morrissey, Oasis ... the list went on. 'I take it you're only into Pommie bands,' he finally remarked, recognising a couple of the names from Triple J.
'Mostly,' she admitted, smiling. 'Caligula's in there somewhere if you're looking for something Aussie.'
Troy turned his nose up. 'Too Indie for me,' he told her. He got up, abandoning the idea of recording anything she'd got, and flopped down on the sofa and took a long swig of his beer, musing over the way his hangovers always seemed to lift just in time to work on his next one – when his hand then suddenly touched something. He looked down and saw a piece of paper just about to disappear down between the cushions and rescued it, and totally innocently, lifted it, and ran his eyes over the neatly penned words, noticing the love-heart that had been drawn in the top left-hand corner with an arrow pointing from an outline of Australia at one end, to an outline of the UK at the other.
Tonight I spent some time,
With someone I'd like to see,
As something special in my life,
But that can never be.
It seems so very typical,
That I should finally meet,
Someone so ...
The sound of Katie and Stacey coming through from the kitchen made him suddenly stuff it into his pocket.
'What're you up to?' asked Katie, noticing how guilty he looked immediately.
Struggling for an answer, he just looked back at her before turning an eye on Stacey. Had they seen him? He doubted it. His first instinct was to screw up his nose and fan the air, and Katie, getting his drift, scrunched up her nose, stopping Stacey from going any further. 'You pig!' she told him.
'Oops, excuse me!' he said, his expression changing to one of guilty amusement.
'He's farted!' Katie then told Stacey, blocking her nose not wanting to chance smelling it.
'It's only a little one.'
'You don't do little ones!'
Stacey laughed, keeping her nose firmly pinched closed, not wanting to find out.
Troy took another swig from his bottle as his mind turned back to the poem. This looked like something Joe was going to be interested in.
It wasn't until after lunch the next day that Troy managed to get hold of Joe.
'Alright, alright!' he complained, stomping his way down the hallway. He continued to mutter until he'd unlocked the door.
'You!' he then accused, peering out at Troy. He reached out and pulled him inside, slamming the door with a bang that made the windows vibrate.
Joe wasn't wearing a stitch. He looked extremely hung-over, and his breath reeked of stale cigarettes and alcohol. 'What d'you think you're doing banging on my door at this time of the morning?'
'It's not morning Joe, it's half past one!' said Troy, following him into the kitchen.
Joe put a hand to his head. 'I don't care what time it is. It feels like bloody six in the morning to me. I only got in an hour ago.'
'No wonder I couldn't get hold of you. I'm sorry I've woken you up, but when you see this, you'll know why I had to.'
Ignoring the piece of paper Troy held out to him, Joe opened the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of iced water and swigged from it until it was empty, feeling horribly dehydrated.
'Wait 'til you see this,' continued Troy, 'I think it's important.'
Joe slumped down on the hard kitchen seat thinking nothing could be that important to have dragged him out of bed. ' ... What is it?' he then asked, squinting through his haze.
'A poem.'
Joe glared at him in disbelief. 'A fucking poem! You mean to tell me you've dragged me out of bed to read a fucking poem?'
'Just read it!' said Troy, recoiling from Joe's bad breath and anger.
Unwillingly Joe snatched it from him and cast his bloodshot eyes over the words, having difficulty focusing on each separate word. 'What's it s'posed to be?' he then asked, with irritation.
'It's Stacey's. I found it at her place last night.
Joe stared at him blankly. 'Stacey's?'
'Yeah. Remember I told you me an' Katie were going round to see her last night cos that guy she'd been seeing had given her the flick? Well, I'm telling you, I think she's at it. She didn't seem that broken-hearted to me after she'd sunk a few drinks. I was sitting on the sofa while the girls were talking in the kitchen and found this. I thought it looked suss, so I nicked it. I think it might explain a few things.'
The frown on Joe's forehead deepened, finding all this too much to comprehend right now, then re-read the poem, forcing himself to read it properly this time.
Tonight I spent some time,
With someone I'd like to see,
As something special in my life'
But that can never be.
It seems so very typical,
That I should finally meet,
Someone so unobtainable,
And have to be discreet.
I know it's "out of order",
And no one must ever hear,
About our secret meetings,
Why should we have that fear?
I don't care what I've heard them say,
About the things you do,
You're everything I've dreamed about,
I hope you think that too.
For a moment, Joe just sat there silently staring at it, the pain in his head thumping harder now as he tried to think. He looked over to Troy, who also said nothing until he leaned across the table to show him the drawing. 'Did you see that? What d'you make of that?' he asked.
Joe had seen it – he'd have had to have been blind to have missed it, and as he looked at it again, his mood darkened.
Still, nothing was said until Troy again leaned over, pointing out, this time, the line where she had put the term, out of order, in inverted commas. 'What about this bit?' he then said, 'that's a very English expression, isn't it?'
Joe chewed on his lip, his eyes fixed on Troy's. 'What're you trying to say, that she's been shagging a Pommie?'
'Seems to look that way, don't you think?'
Joe shifted in his seat, his mood darkening further, still holding Troy's gaze. 'What d'you know about the married bloke, has Katie told you anything about him?'
'Nah. I don't think she really knows anything about him herself. All she's told me is that he's married, his name is John, and Stacey was completely besotted by him. He turned his attention back to the poem. 'But I don't think he exists. I think she's made him up, so no one would ask any questions. Have you ever seen her CD collection? It's all that Pommie Indie shit that those fucking Pommie arseholes like.'
Joe's face tightened. 'You don't think she's been screwing one of them, do you?' he asked, feeling, however stupid that sounded, sick to the pit of his stomach.
Troy didn't answer - he didn't need to answer. The look on his face told Joe that was exactly what he was thinking.
'But how - how could that possibly be?' he asked, his frown carving two deep lines in the middle of his forehead.
Troy didn't know, and taking the poem from Joe, pointed out another part that had made him suspicious. 'Look at that,' he said, beginning to lose patience with Joe's inability to think straight. 'Just look at the bloody thing. She's obviously been seeing someone she knows she shouldn't have been, or she wouldn't have written that, or that ...' he said, pointing out two separate bits in both the second and third verses, where she'd referred to secret meetings. '... And I don't think for a minute that it's some mysterious married guy who's sprung into her life, all of a sudden, that none of us know, otherwise she wouldn't have written that...' he said, prodding the part that read, "I Don't Care What I've Heard Them Say, About The Things You Do." 'We obviously know him, cos she's heard us talking about him.'
The reality of all this now began to sink in, and Joe, noticing the phone number written in a different pen on the other side of the piece of paper, scraped back his chair and went to the phone.
'I've been trying to phone that number all morning,' Troy told him, 'but there's been no answer.'
'It's a Coogee number,' mumbled Joe, winning no prizes for that observation.
He dialled the number, and when it rang on unanswered, threw down the receiver and went back to his seat with the foulest mood hovering over him.
He chewed on his thumbnail, thinking deeply, trying to work this out before glancing up at Troy darkly. 'You know, I think you might be right when you say you think it might be one of those arseholes. See that night I went down the beach with her - that was the night Katie first told me she'd been seeing someone. She was really depressed and wouldn't talk to anyone about it, remember?'
Troy nodded.
'When we first went down to the beach, everything was cool. She actually seemed to warm to me for once, and let me look after her - although she still didn't want to talk about why she'd been so upset.' He shrugged. 'I really thought I was in with a chance, and then that fucking Cockney prick had to go and show up, and she freaked out. I told her to go back to the club, but she didn't, if you remember, we had to go looking for her.'
Again, Troy nodded.
'After she took off, so did I. He was the last person I needed to run into at that moment while my ribs were still bad, plus I was half cut and had popped a couple of pills ... ' he then stopped as a thought suddenly struck him. 'What if it's him?'
'Who, Lee?'
Joe nodded grimly.
'Nah,' said Troy.
'Why not?'
'Just can't see it,' said Troy, knowing Joe's obsession with Lee. 'And, Stacey's scared stiff of him after the way he'd had a go at her that night outside The Coffee Shop. That's why she'd have run.'
'She also could have run because whatever had gone on between them was over, and she was scared he was going to open his mouth there and then about it,' surmised Joe, desperately trying to think of something - anything. 'Imagine the pleasure he'd have had telling me he'd been shagging her, and more fool her, if it was him, for thinking he had been with her for any other reason than to get one on me.'
But Troy was shaking his head.
'No, can't see it, Joe. Didn't you say that his bird was with him that night? Why would he say anything in front of her?'
'Why wouldn't he? He doesn't give a fuck about anything! Anyway, from what I've heard, they split up a while ago. They were out there having an argument.'
'Nah,' Troy said once again. 'I can't see it, mate. But I do think it's one of that lot, for sure. It's there in black and white,' he said, nodding to the piece of paper in Joe's hand.
Joe mulled it over in his head, trying to work out which one of them it could possibly have been, and it was as he was thinking this, that he suddenly noticed what the poem had been written on – something neither of them had noticed up until now. His face drained of colour.
'Have you seen what this heap of shit's been written on?' he suddenly erupted, as if accusing Troy.
He had to draw back to look at the poem properly as Joe thrust it too close to his face to see, and it wasn't long before he, too, paled. 'Cab charge,' he breathed, almost in disbelief. 'It's one of the old cab charge slips.'
'Yeah, fucking cab charge!' he bellowed back.
Troy bit his lip. 'Shit ...' before adding, thinking more rationally, 'he's not the only English cab driver, you know.'
Joe glared at him.
'Bob. Bob's a cab driver, too,' he reminded him.
Joe hadn't even considered him, and getting up from his seat, he suddenly kicked it out of his way before dragging the phone directories out of the cupboard.
'What's his last name?' Joe demanded, his whole face pinched with bitterness.
'Whose, Bob's? Kennedy.'
Joe threw open the A – K and tore through the pages until he came to the Ks.
Out of the eighty-odd Kennedy's listed, there were only three in the Coogee area under R. Kennedy. He ran a finger along the addresses and found it easily. R. Kennedy, Leeton Avenue, Coogee - but the number didn't match. Lee's name loomed brightly in both their minds now as the truth stared them brutally in the face.
Joe yanked open the L – Z on S, his mouth forming a hard, thin line as his eyes scoured what looked like an endless list of Stevens', only to find there was no L. Stevens listed on Coogee Bay Road where he knew Lee lived.
'Try Stephens with a ph,' suggested Troy, remembering there were two spellings of the name.
Joe virtually ripped the pages back, and after going through a shorter list, still found nothing. 'Fuck!' he cursed, wildly throwing the books aside.
'Hey, cool it, Joe, cool it,' said Troy, trying to calm him down. 'If it's not in the book, try directory assistance; maybe he's ex-directory.'
Without uttering another word, Joe snatched up the phone and dialled 013.
'Area please,' came the typical nasal telecom drone.
'Coogee.'
'Name?'
'Stevens; L. Stevens.'
'Is that Stevens with a v or a ph?'
Joe tried to keep his cool. 'I'm not a hundred per cent sure,' he said, taking a deep breath and looking at Troy with a shake of his head. 'All I know is that it's L. Stevens, Coogee Bay Road, Coogee.'
'Hold the line, please.'
Joe waited with a sick feeling in his stomach as she computed it.
'I'm sorry, sir,' came the unexpected reply then. 'That's a silent number.'
It took a moment to sink in. 'What d'you mean it's a silent number?'
'It's a silent number. I can't give out silent numbers.'
Joe nearly exploded. 'What do you mean you can't give out silent numbers? This is an emergency!'
'I'm sorry, sir. There's nothing I can do about that.'
Troy turned around, covering his face with his hands in disbelief, while Joe, controlling himself the best he could, tried a different approach. 'Well, listen, love,' he said. 'I've got a number here in front of me which I think is Mr Stevens' number. If I read it out to you, would you confirm it either way?'
'No, sorry, sir...'
'Well fuck you then, you ignorant bitch!' he stormed. He threw the receiver down so hard it cracked the outer casing of the phone, and he turned around, clenching his fists, looking for something to punch.
Joe gritted his teeth. 'The bitch! Can you believe that? Can't give out silent numbers! What's the fucking point in having a fucking phone if no one's allowed to know your fucking number!'
Troy pushed back his hair, knowing there would be no getting through to Joe while he was in this kind of mood and dug into his pocket to see how much money he had.
'Listen,' he said, finding $50.00 as Joe slumped back in his seat, holding his head between his hands. 'I'm going round the bottle-o. You could probably use a hair-of-the-dog. We've got the number - we've got the rest of the day - we'll just keep trying it. Someone has to answer it eventually.'
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday Thursday. It was now Thursday. The days had passed like one wet weekend after another.
Stacey had packed her things and was ready to leave in the morning, but every time she thought about morning, her stomach twisted into one big knot of nerves. What if something went wrong? What if something unexpected happened? What if he pulled out at the last minute? What if he was doing this to set her up? What if? What if? What if? Suddenly her worries seemed endless, and she'd managed to invent every problem conceivable.
She took the last of her clothes from the wardrobe and laid them on top of her suitcase, thinking, surely he couldn't be that much of a bastard to deceive her like that - could he? But then she only had to think about what he was doing to Claire to know the answer to that one.
Joe caught a glimpse of himself as he came out of the shower and studied his bitter reflection as he rubbed himself down. Finally, his ribs had mended. There was no more pain, no more tenderness – and what timing too! It was time for revenge!
He threw a handful of gel into his unkempt black hair, thinking tonight he had to go out of his way to be thoughtful, sensitive and charming, then when she least expected it, wham! He was going to hit her with it! He knew how to handle Little Miss Stacey now. And once he'd finished with her, Lee was going to get it!
Slicking back his hair and leaving the two-day growth on his chin, Joe went and got dressed.
He scowled at his reflection, thinking, no wonder I look so bitter!
He and Troy had sat there all day Sunday ringing that number over and over again, and not once had it been answered – which set off a new train of thought; if it was Lee's number, then where was he? And was there any connection between his apparent disappearance and Stacey's sudden decision to go away Friday? A big question mark hung over his head. The idea of Lee sneaking around behind everyone's back with Stacey seemed utterly ludicrous. How could it have started? What could have been happening? Had it been like he thought, that Lee had only pulled her to get one on him? or was there more to it? He'd become totally obsessed with it and spent another day Monday, ringing that number at every chance he'd got, and still there had been no answer.
That evening he'd tried directory assistance again in the hope of catching one of the operators off guard, but got the same response three times from three different operators.
' ... I'm sorry, sir, I can't give you a silent number.'
' ... Oh no sir, I'm afraid I can't give out a silent number.'
' ... I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid we're not allowed to hand out silent numbers.'
FUCK THE LOT OF YOU!
His anger mounted.
Then came Tuesday - he couldn't handle another day just ringing that number; he had to find out for sure if it was Lee's before Friday, when Stacey left to, supposedly, go to her parent's place for a couple of weeks – and came up with an idea.
He phoned Lee's cab office feeling a hundred per cent sure the number was his.
'Hi there,' he said, in the friendliest of manners when Rita answered the phone. 'I don't know if you can help me or not, but I've been trying to contact Lee Stevens?'
'Oh, yes,' came the receptionist's voice, finishing off her cigarette as she spoke. 'How can I help you?'
'Is he working today?' he asked, sounding hopeful.
'Yes, love, he is.'
'Oh, that's great!' he exclaimed, overemphasising his happiness. 'I'm an old mate of his. I've just got back from overseas and have been trying to get hold of him. Do you know if he's moved at all?'
'No, love, he hasn't moved ... he's actually due back into the office shortly. Do you want me to get him to call you?'
'No, no, that's alright - I want to surprise him. Can you do me a favour though, can you just check his phone number for me as I've been trying to remember it off the top of my head, and I'm not sure if I've got it right.'
Rita stretched for her address book falling for it hook, line and sinker. 'Sure,' she said, only happy to oblige. 'What number have you got?'
Joe relayed the number to her, which he'd now learned off by heart, and deliberately changed the last digit, then waited, eyes closed, fingers crossed for the answer – the answer that was going to tell him whether this was Lee's number or not – then came the confirmation.
'Yes, love,' she innocently told him, 'but you've got the last number wrong. It's 092, not 094.'
The feeling that now gripped him was indescribable as the truth hit home hard! No matter how prepared he thought he'd be for the truth, he was still absolutely gutted. At the end of the day, he had hoped he'd been wrong. That it had turned out to be someone else's number - some complete and utter stranger who meant nothing to anyone or anybody, that he could have handled, this he couldn't.
So, Lee Stevens had been laughing at him all along, had he? He'd used Stacey to get at him, and the stupid bitch had fallen for it. Fancy thinking for a minute that Lee Stevens could ever possibly be in the slightest bit interested in her. She had to be joking!
"You're everything I've dreamed about, I hope you think that too." 'Dream on bitch,' he cursed. His blood was boiling.
Once again, the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and a strengthening southerly threatened more rain and thunder. Stacey hurried down the street, knowing a storm was on its way and was glad she hadn't got far to go.
Why she was going through with this tonight was absolutely beyond her, but when Joe had phoned her Tuesday night sounding, oh so sorry for himself, she'd thought why not - she had nothing else to do and was getting too anxious just sitting in. He only wanted to see her for a drink to apologise for his behaviour the other night, and Lee had told her to keep going out – do everything she'd normally do to avoid any suspicion.
A streak of lightning crackled through the sky, causing her to flinch severely. She was terrified of storms and hated being out in them, and when the heavens opened, she raced around the corner of Beach Street, pleased to find Joe already standing there waiting for her, under the awning of Jaspers Cocktail Bar.
'God!' she exclaimed, hanging onto the hem of her flimsy skirt as the wind swirled underneath it. 'This weather's unbelievable!'
Joe forced a smile. 'You made it.'
'Just.'
Pushing his immediate hatred for her away, he turned and opened the door, allowing her to go inside first, determined to control his bitterness and act the perfect gentleman for as long as he had to.
The place was buzzing. The only seats left were up at the bar, and Joe led the way through to the two stools in the corner where he felt they could at least still talk in private.
They sorted themselves out and sat down.
'So,' started Joe, putting on a sympathetic face. 'How've you been? I saw Troy and Katie Monday night, and they told me what happened with that guy you'd been seeing.'
Stacey forced an uncomfortable smile. 'Yeah, she told me that she'd seen you.'
He threw her a compassionate look before saying, 'what a bastard.'
She shrugged it off, and Joe could tell she really didn't want to talk about it.
'So, are you alright?'
She nodded with a look of resignation. 'Just have to be, don't I. I do feel a bit stupid now though,' she added, as she would if the event had actually happened, 'but that's the reason I didn't want to tell anyone about it in the first place.'
'So, they told me you're going away for a while. Is that right?'
'Yeah,' she nodded. 'I'm going to go home for a couple of weeks to see my parents. I just need a break, that's all.'
'Yeah, probably the best thing for you,' he said, in short, thinking bitterly of no one but Lee Stevens, and still trying to work out what had really gone on between them. 'But I'm not here to go on about that,' he said, knowing if he did, his Mr Nice Guy image would slip. 'I just wanted to see you so I could apologise for the way I treated you that night when you came back to mine. I should never have forced myself on you like that.'
Stacey blushed guiltily. 'It wasn't all your fault,' she was quick to confess, not wanting to drag this out any longer than it had to. She glanced down at her hands, remembering clearly her motives that night - to go for it – to sleep with him – to do anything she had to to get Lee out of her head. But the moment he'd shown up and held her in that picnic shelter, he threw her into the usual emotional turmoil he threw her into.
'It's me who should be apologising,' she heard herself say, figuring if she took half of the blame, then this would all be over in moments. 'I should never have led you on.'
'You didn't lead me on,' he said, appearing to be more understanding than ever before. 'You just needed affection that night, and I mistook it for something else. See when you let me kiss you on the beach, it was wonderful; it's what I'd wanted for so long, and when you came back to mine, I thought, this is it - that you were going to give me a go, but then, as usual, you knocked me back.'
'I'm sorry,' she said, feeling uncomfortable going into this in such intimate detail.
'No, I'm sorry. I guess you just didn't realise how much you turn me on. A guy can only take so much, and I guess on that occasion, I lost it.'
Fortunately, they were interrupted at that point by the barmaid, and both Stacey and Joe looked around and smiled at the attractive husky-voiced Amazon, who had placed herself, provocatively, in front of Joe.
'Hi,' he said.
She cast a brief eye in Stacey's direction, acknowledging her with a polite nod before concentrating on Joe again, unashamedly eyeing him up. 'Are you ready to be served yet?'
'Yeah,' answered Joe, taking the cocktail list from her.
Together, Stacey and Joe looked through the list of cocktails. There was a vast selection. Names they'd heard of, names they hadn't heard of, and names they felt sure they'd never dare ask for.
'What d'you fancy?' he asked, not knowing where to start.
'I wouldn't have a clue,' she admitted.
Joe flicked over the next couple of pages and found not only did they have every cocktail under the sun, but they also had an impressive selection of beer, wine and spirits too.
'I'd be quite happy sharing a bottle of wine,' Stacey then said, not wanting a hangover in the morning and knowing her limit on wine.
'You'd like wine?'
She nodded.
Joe looked at the barmaid for advice. 'What can you recommend?' he asked with a wink. 'I want something special,' he added, really wanting to impress Stacey tonight with no expense spared – because to him, this was going to be well worth it.
'Sure,' she said, 'what would you prefer, red or white?'
Stacey and Joe looked at one another and agreed on white – a Chardonnay.
The barmaid leafed over the list with Joe, and he could smell the faint aroma of perfume that rose from her cleavage as she brazenly thrust it towards him. 'This,' she said, 'is one of my personal favourites ... and this one. They're a little more expensive, but,' she added.
Joe glanced at their prices and saw what she meant by a little more expensive, but he didn't care. He'd got the cash, and that was his intention. He was going to butter her up, putting no pressure on her - ply her with alcohol and then later he was going to get off her what Lee had been getting off her for only God knows how long.
'Yeah, great,' he finally said after reading their descriptions. 'Give us the Brokenwood now, and have the Briar Ridge on ice waiting.'
He threw a handful of nuts into his mouth, winking at the barmaid as she walked away, feeling suddenly very confident in himself.
The first hour passed reasonably well, and once they had sorted out their differences had found plenty to talk about, covering a wide variety of subjects, ranging from life after death to should Australia become a republic.
Joe listened with interest to everything she had to say and mastered his charm to perfection, putting in the extra effort to agree with everything she said. And Stacey, feeling the effects of the alcohol after what seemed like only her second glass, became more relaxed and stopped watching the clock as he lulled her into a false sense of security by keeping her glass topped up, so she was, in fact, unsure of how many drinks she'd had.
'They've done this place up nicely, haven't they?' Joe commented when he returned from the gents.
Stacey agreed. 'I think that'd be the gay influence.' she told him, reaching for one of his cigarettes. 'I think gays run it.'
He poured the last of the Brokenwood into Stacey's glass before catching the barmaid's eye for their second bottle.
In a flash, she was over. 'How was it?' she wanted to know, setting two fresh glasses down in front of them.
'Really nice,' answered Joe, 'though I'm more of a beer man myself.'
She threw him a warm smile, still ignoring Stacey, and pushed the Briar Ridge into the ice bucket. 'If there's anything else you're after,' she then said, emphasizing the word, anything, with a raised eyebrow, 'don't hesitate to ask.'
Stacey then smirked, thinking if Joe had really been her boyfriend, she'd be well and truly pissed off by now with the way the barmaid was throwing herself at him, but the way it stood, she found it quite amusing – let alone highly entertaining.
'It looks like you're in there!' she remarked, hiding her amusement discretely behind a hand.
Joe grinned, glancing back over his shoulder.
'Do you fancy her?'
'She's certainly got possibilities,' he admitted, scanning her shapely figure through her tight black dress.
'Well, she's definitely got the hots for you!'
Joe shrugged, casually running a hand over his slicked-back hair, making out that was the usual response he got from females – then decided this was the place to start. He rested an arm on the side of the bar, looking at her with a sad expression. 'Though however lovely she might be, she's nowhere near as lovely as you are.'
Immediately Stacey frowned, finding herself blushing with embarrassment.
' ... And not only are you lovely, I think you're very sexy too.'
Stacey put her glass down on the bar to avoid his eyes and hoped that no one around them had heard that.
'It's a pity you're just not interested in me,' he continued to say, deliberately playing on her discomfort. 'Tell me,' he then added, 'out of interests sake. What kind of guys do you like? I mean, you're a total mystery to me. The other birds never stop going on about guys - it's either this one's a spunk or that one's a sort, but I've never heard you say anything about anyone. Who's your favourite actor or pop star?'
Stacey half smiled as she lifted her drink to her lips and took a small sip, thinking about it. 'I don't know,' she said in all honesty, 'I don't really have one.'
'Come on,' probed Joe, 'you must have one. Everyone's got one. Who do you like, Michael Hutchence, Johnny Depp, the guy in the Levi Ad?'
Stacey immediately screwed her nose up. 'Yuck, Michael Hutchence - he's vile! Why do guys think all girls fancy him? He looks like he needs a good scrub!'
'Then think of someone. Just give me some kind of idea.'
Stacey then rested her glass on her knee and smiled as she thought - but still came up with nothing. 'I don't know.'
Joe then tried from a different angle. 'Then what usually attracts you to a guy and makes you think, yeah, that's nice?'
She laughed, wondering why he felt the need to know.
'I mean, do you go for a certain look, style - a firm arse?'
'A firm arse?' she burst out laughing, not believing she was having this conversation. 'What do you want to know for, anyway; you going to try and set me up with someone?' she joked.
But Joe didn't laugh - not even a trace of amusement crossed his face, and Stacey, looking up to the ceiling, considered it a little more seriously since it seemed to interest him so much - when the obvious came to mind. ' ... Well,' she said slowly, returning her eyes to his with a light smile playing on her lips, 'if you really want to know, I suppose hair's a big factor in my mind. I do like guys with long hair. Long blond hair – not too long mind, probably just down to about here,' she said, tapping the base of her neck. 'Just long enough to tie back in a ponytail. I do quite like guys with ponytails.'
It was like a punch in the face for Joe, and he reacted immediately. 'Yeah, what a fucking surprise!'
Stacey was shocked by his outburst and just stared at him for a moment, figuring that he'd just got the shits because she'd said long blond hair as opposed to short black hair – or something that may have favoured his appearance. She went to speak, but the barmaid had returned, covering Joe's hand with her own as he went to pick up the bottle.
'Here,' she purred, giving him one of her seductive looks. 'I can do that for you.'
It was then Stacey noticed something.
Joe remained as polite as he could in front of the barmaid, as he dug into his pocket for some change. 'Can you get me a packet of fags?' he asked.
'John Players Special?' she inquired, seeing the empty packet scrunched up beside the ashtray.
'Yup,' he replied with a wink, and then no sooner had she disappeared, Stacey covered her mouth with a hand to smother her laughter.
'I'd watch it if I were you!' she giggled, the wine getting the better of her now.
'Watch what?' He snapped, turning to her coldly.
'Her'
'Who?'
'Her!'
'Why?'
'She's a fella!'
'Who's a fella?'
'She is!' she said, nodding after the barmaid as she went for the cigarettes.
Joe looked at Stacey as if she had flipped. ' ... Fuck off!' he finally said.
'I'm telling you, she is! Didn't you see the size of her hands? And she's got an Adam's Apple!'
'Get for real!' retorted Joe, shaking his head.
'She has! She's got an Adam's Apple!' she stressed, looking deadly serious - though highly amused.
Joe stole a look, and as she made her way back along the bar, it all became so obvious. Her height, her voice, her hands – and her Adam's Apple! A look of disgust crossed his face, and when she handed him his cigarettes, blowing him a discreet little kiss, Joe didn't smile.
Stacey had to hide her laughter as he glared at the barmaid, showing her his fist as he told her, in not so many words, to beat it before he knocked the living crap out of her.
She'd been sprung - and realising this, treated Joe to a full performance of a spurned queen before taking his advice and beat it to the other end of the bar, not daring to venture back in his direction.
'Fuckin' creep!' cursed Joe, seething inside and feeling ill at the fact that he hadn't even noticed. 'Fuckin' sick, weirdo, creep!'
Stacey laughed and nudged him. 'Wouldn't that have been a nasty surprise if you'd taken her home! I wonder if she's had the full operation yet!'
'Get fucked!' he spat, shoving her arm away from him.
She hid her face behind her glass and peered over the top with a pair of glassy laughing eyes.
'I'm warning you,' said Joe, his anger rising.
Stacey tutted with a shake of her head, 'God, where's your sense of humour gone? It's funny ...' and unable to stop herself from laughing, said, 'fancy being sucked in by a Tranny!'
That was it - Joe snapped! 'Sucked in, eh?' he fumed through gritted teeth, pushing her to make sure she was listening. 'You'd know all about that, wouldn't you!'
Stacey stopped laughing and looked at him questioningly.
'Ooh, I like guys with long blond hair ... well, what a surprise! You'll like fuck all about him once I've finished with that cunt!'
Stacey then frowned and just stared at him, wondering all of a sudden what he was getting at.
'Yeah, no wonder you're looking at me like that, you bitch! I know what you've been up to!'
Stacey didn't dare speak and continued to stare at him when suddenly, out of the blue, he threw her poem at her - and the moment she realised what it was, her face drained of colour. 'Where'd you get that!' she demanded to know, swallowing hard.
'Wouldn't you like to know!'
She went to take it from him, but he kept a firm hold of it, and her mind shot back to that last time she'd seen it. It had been Saturday when she'd been sorting her things out. Katie had rung, and she'd put it down when she'd answered the phone. No, surely not? Katie must have found it - or no, Troy! Her throat tightened as she thought about it.
'Yeah, frightening, isn't it? Frightening to think what your mates can do behind your back, eh?' said Joe insinuating what Troy had done and what she, herself, had been doing. 'Looks to me like your little secret's been way bigger than any of us expected.'
Stacey watched him, and Joe could see the fear in her eyes.
'This married fella of yours,' he then added, cockily, 'English, is he?'
Again Stacey swallowed, wondering how the hell she could deny it with the heart she'd drawn with the map of Australia at one end and the UK at the other.
'Yeah,' she answered indignantly, 'so what's that got to do with anything – apart from your own aversion to the English?'
He forced a bitter smile, ignoring her dig. 'And don't tell me,' he said, with an annoying little nod, 'he's got long blond hair and drives a cab.'
Stacey glared at him uneasily.
'An English cab driver with long blond hair,' he went on to say, 'not too long, mind you,' he corrected himself, remembering her specification. 'Just down to here ... just long enough to tie back in a ponytail.' He seemed to mull it over before turning a steady eye on her. ' ... It's funny, you know, no one's ever told me Lee Stevens is married.'
Stacey's heart virtually stopped. 'Lee Stevens?' she questioned, her mouth not moving naturally. 'What's he got to do with it?'
'What's he got to do with it!' he sneered back, nastily. 'EVERYTHING!' he then shouted, making her jump as he slammed a fist down on the bar.
'WHY?' she shouted back, only spurred on by the fright he'd given her.
'You tell me, you bitch!' he then glowered, threatening her with the back of his hand.
Stacey flinched, thinking he was going to hit her, and he pulled her towards him by the front of her top.
'What's he done, huh? Picked you up, sucked you in and spat you out now that he's got what he wanted, eh?'
Stacey's face burned bright red as people now began to stare. 'I don't believe you said that!' she said, trying to fend him off her and hoping to make him feel stupid for even suggesting such a thing, 'I really can't believe you said that! What're you trying to say, that it was him I was seeing - that that poem's about him?'
But nothing she could say could save her. Joe took her by the elbow and began coaxing her off her stool. 'What are you doing?' she demanded nervously.
'Pick up your bag - we're going.'
'No,' she told him, hanging onto her seat, flatly refusing. 'I'm not going anywhere with you. Not while you're making those kind of accusations.' 'Come on.'
'No!'
He picked up her bag and slammed it into her chest. 'Get your fucking arse up off that seat and get a move on!'
'Hey, hey, hey!' complained an older gent, who was standing directly beside them. 'Watch your language, please!'
'You mind your own fucking business, granddad!' He snapped back, glaring at the man until he felt obliged to move away. '... Nosey fucking bastard!'
Stacey looked around in a fluster, clearly scared out of her wits, and caught the bouncer's eye in a silent plea for help.
Immediately he responded and making his way over, tapped Joe on the shoulder as he continued to force Stacey off her stool.
'Excuse me, mate,' he started, taking him forcefully from behind, 'I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you continue to carry on like that.'
'Yeah,' said Joe, nudging him out of the way. 'We're just leaving.'
' ... And you can take your hands off the little lady,' he said, drawing himself up to his full height and helping Joe's hands off her. 'And leave quietly. I'm sure she's quite able to walk to the door without your assistance.'
Stacey took this as her one and only chance to get away from him, and without hesitation, made for the door – fast!
'Hey!' shouted Joe, going to run after her.
'Whoa!' calmed the bouncer. 'What's the hurry, mate?'
Stacey prayed that the bouncer would hold him back just long enough for her to get out of there to safety and barged her way through the crowded tables, unable to avoid bumping people as she went. ' ... Sorry ... Sorry ...' she repeated, not even seeing the people she was apologising to. And once she reached the door, she ran out into the street, the wild windy night sharpening her senses like a slap in the face!
RUN, RUN, RUN, she told herself frantically - FASTER, FASTER, FASTER.
It was all uphill to her flat, and she belted up that road in the fastest sprint she'd done since high school. It was like running in a nightmare. Thank God she didn't have far to go! PLEASE LET ME MAKE IT HOME.
Joe wrestled with the bouncer, not caring who got in the way. 'Get your fucking hands off me!' he yelled.
People began to move aside as the bouncer escorted Joe to the door struggling.
Stacey ran down her driveway, only then looking round and saw Joe just starting up the hill. She raced into the building, up the stairs to the second floor and dug for what seemed an eternity for her keys, her eyes pinned to the top of the stairs, terrified he'd suddenly appear there before she could get inside.
How fast one can sober up!
With the door locked behind her and the security chain on, Stacey ran to the phone, leaving the lights off, as she had to face her next dilemma – Lee. He was going to kill her! Why did this have to go and happen – and all over that stupid, stupid poem?
Lee couldn't believe what he was hearing when Stacey blurted out, in one breathless string of jumbled words, what had happened with hardly an ounce of energy left inside her, and detecting her fear, acted on it straight away.
'Right,' he told her, having to think fast. 'Stay put. Keep the lights out. I'm coming to get you.'
'But what about Joe?' she asked, panicking, 'He'll be here any minute.'
'I'll worry about him when I get there. Now stay put. Get all the stuff you're taking away with you together, and be ready. You'll have to come over tonight. I'll give you three blasts on the horn when I get there so you know I'm on my way up.'
Stacey threw down the receiver without another word and hurried around in the dark, grabbing the remainder of her belongings.
Calm down, for God's sake, she told herself. It's going to be alright.
In her hurry, the contents of her make-up bag spilled out across the bathroom floor, and she scuttled around on all fours until she'd found it all and stuffed it back into the bag, grabbing her towel, toothbrush and perfumes.
Suddenly there was a loud thump on the door.
She jumped, terrified, and rushed through to the bedroom, throwing the toiletries in amongst the pile already crammed into her case – but it wouldn't close.
'Open up, Stacey. I know you're in there.'
Her eyes darted to the door, and she swallowed, rearranging her things in a hopeless attempt at shutting the case before finally sitting on it and struggling with the clips.
The banging went on.
Eventually, she did it, the clips snapped to, and with the case bulging at the seams, she hauled it out of the bedroom and ran to the kitchen window to see if there was any sign of Lee yet.
Joe continued hammering on the door in hard solid thumps, shouldering it, determined to get in.
Stacey didn't know what to do – when she spotted the empty wine bottle beside the bin and grabbed it, holding it by the neck as a means of defence in case he did get in. Then, as she hid beside the fridge, a light glimmering on the sideboard caught her attention. It was a knife! Abandoning the bottle, she snatched it up, her heart pounding in her chest almost as hard as Joe's fists on the door.
BANG! The door shuddered! It wasn't that strong, but Stacey was convinced he couldn't get in.
Joe could feel it slowly giving under the strain of his constant banging and knew all it needed was one big hefty boot in the right place to bust it open. He stood back and raised a leg, then with almighty force, booted it as hard as he could with the flat of his foot. It gave instantly, splintering the wooden frame, ripping the screws from their confines – latch, chain and all!
Stacey froze to the spot as she stood wide-eyed in the kitchen doorway, holding the knife hesitantly out in front of herself, the dim light from the stairwell flashing on the short blade causing Joe to see her immediately. He laughed, feeling for the light switch and flicked it on.
'A knife!' he mused, not taking his eyes off hers, 'how cute! What do you plan doing with that then?'
He knew she'd never dare use it, and going towards her slowly knocked it clean out of her hands, taking her completely by surprise.
'GET AWAY FROM ME!' she screamed, having nowhere to run this time.
Outside, she heard the three blasts of Lee's car.
Joe grabbed hold of her, winding her hair around his fist and dragged her screaming into the bedroom. He threw her down on the bed with a terrifying leer. 'This could turn out to be quite a night for you an' me!' he told her, as he unbuckled his belt. 'I'm gonna get a bit of what Fuck Face has been getting for only God knows how long, and then once I'm done, you an' me are going to take a little trip round to see him ... what d'you reckon?'
'You're mad!' she yelled, leaning away from him as he pushed his face fearfully close to hers.
Joe dug his fingers into her jaw, making her look at him when suddenly she sunk her teeth into the skin between his forefinger and thumb until he just had to let go.
'You BITCH!' he cursed, hitting her around the side of her head with a clenched fist.
It was then Lee barged in through the splintered front door, and hearing the noise in the bedroom, raced through.
Joe did a double-take having thought he'd seen something out of the corner of his eye, and when he looked again and saw Lee coming at him with a wheel brace in his hands, he literally threw himself at him before he had the chance to bring it down on him.
'NO!' screamed Stacey.
The wheel brace dropped to the floor as Joe thrust Lee into the wall with a massive show of strength, jarring every bone in his body, then began punching into him. They fought like wild animals, belting into each other with a viciousness Stacey had never witnessed before, and taking hold of the wheel brace, shoved it under the bed as far as she possibly could so neither of them could get at it.
'STOP!' she yelled, not daring to think where this could lead.
Joe pinned Lee against the wall, not giving him the chance to get the upper hand. He beat him, kicked him, punched him, his whole face a twisted picture of hatred, and Lee, only just managing to defend himself, raised a foot and booted him hard in the knee.
There was a sickening crack as something went, and Joe collapsed to the floor, clutching his knee in agony.
Stacey felt sick and had to look away.
Lee carried on taking advantage of the situation and booted into him again and again.
'No, Lee, don't. Stop it!' she pleaded, not knowing why she was begging him to stop after all she'd been through with Joe herself tonight.
He pushed her aside, telling her to get her things and go.
She didn't.
Joe tried pulling himself up, feeling intolerable pain rip through his knee, and being unable to put any weight on it, stumbled through to the lounge room, protecting himself the best he could – when he spotted the knife.
Without hesitation, he pounced on it, rolling over on the floor, forcing himself to ignore the chronic pain and swung at Lee, holding the knife out in front of himself as he crouched in front of him.
Lee stopped mid-step.
'Yeah!' growled Joe, almost triumphantly when he saw Lee back off. He wiped the blood away from his nose and pushed back his hair.
'Try it arsehole!' said Lee, beckoning him on with his hands. 'Just fuckin' try it!'
'I know all about you two!' cursed Joe, waiting to choose his moment.
'You know fuck all!'
The intense desire to stick that knife in Lee drove any rational thought from Joe's mind, and gathering all his strength together, he leapt to his feet, taking wild stabs at him, just wanting to stick that knife in him.
'NO, JOE!' screamed Stacey, petrified.
They fought close, Joe hanging on to Lee, unable to put any pressure on his leg, making it impossible for Lee to get a good punch in, then determined to win this, Joe brought his arm down under Lee's and with clenched teeth rammed the knife hard into his side.
Lee jerked back, feeling the cold blade rip through his tee-shirt and skin, warding off more attempted stabs and darted a hand to the wound. He felt the warm flow of blood seep through his fingers and glared at Joe, keeping his breathing dangerously even, daring him, just daring him to try it again.
He did.
Stacey pinpointed the bottle she'd picked up earlier and dashed to the kitchen to grab it knowing she had to do something now to help. She took the bottle in both hands, having every intention of hitting Joe with it but hesitated for a second too long, and he thrust her out of the way, giving Lee the chance he needed to get the better of him.
Somehow the knife got lost.
Lee dragged Joe down to the carpet and beat him repeatedly – kneeing him in the stomach, winding him, and punching him in the head.
There was no way Joe could retaliate or protect himself from Lee's ferocious fists and be damned if Lee was going to let him, anyway.
Stacey was horrified, and when she heard Joe gasping for breath, she ran over and tried hopelessly to pull Lee's strong hands off him. 'No Lee,' she begged. 'Stop. That's enough ... you'll kill him ... look at him, he can't breathe!'
'Fuck him,' was all he said.
Joe spluttered, coughing up blood, and spewed on the carpet as he did so until finally he blacked out – and still Lee hammered into him.
Stacey felt faint.
'Get out of here,' Lee then told her, thinking it best she wasn't there.
She swallowed, rooted to the spot with fear as she looked at the broken face beneath Lee's fists. 'For God's sake,' she breathed, 'what have you done?'
'Get out!' he then repeated, emphasizing his words with a raised but controlled voice.
But she was too scared to move.
He stared at her coolly. 'I told you to get out. Bob's in the car waiting, NOW GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!'
Stacey was off down the stairs in a shot, and just seconds after, Bob ran in, horrified by what he'd been told.
'What the fuck's going on in here?' he demanded, seeing Lee dragging Joe's crumpled body through to the bedroom. He put a hand on his arm to stop him, but Lee didn't respond, and it was then that he noticed the dark red patch that was spreading gradually down his side. ' ... Jesus!' he exclaimed, 'what did he do, stab you?'
Lee's mouth formed a thin hard line, and he nodded grimly as he continued to haul Joe through the doorway, saying nothing.
'Stop for fuck's sake! You need hospital!'
'Do I fuck!' he shouted, not in the mood for any of this.
'Lee?' He lifted up the side of his tee-shirt to see the extent of his wound and didn't like what he saw. 'Lee,' he then said again. 'You're going to need stitches in that, mate.'
But he still chose to ignore him, and Bob snapped. 'Will you just stop and fuckin' listen to me, you arsehole!' he shouted, making him stop what he was doing whether he liked it or not. ' ... And what're you doing with him?'
'I'm dumping him in here,' he answered irrationally.
'You can't do that!' exclaimed Bob, thinking that Lee had finally lost it. 'You can't just leave him here ... what if something happens to him? He's not looking too good, you know.'
But Lee just shrugged. 'Fuck him.'
Bob bent down and felt for a pulse – it was weak. 'Lee, you cannot just leave him here. If he kicks it, it'll come back on her, and it won't be long before they connect it with us.'
Lee dropped Joe's arms, putting a hand to his head, feeling pretty sick from the pain in his side, and reluctantly nodded. 'Alright, so what d'you reckon?'
Bob thought. 'We can take him over the park, there,' he said, nodding towards the reserve opposite Stacey's flat. 'We can take him over there and dump him – though we'll have to call an ambulance. We can tell 'em we just stumbled across an old drunk lying there, and it looks like someone's done him over. That way they'll go straight to him, no questions asked.' He spotted the wine bottle and handed it to Lee. 'Here, take that. We can carry him down between us – and sing! Make out we're all plastered. That way, no one'll be suspicious if they see us holding him up and staggering. THEN mate, we're taking you to the hospital.'