Switching on the radio, he flicked through the preset channels until he found some Euro House music with a thumping bass line to re-energise him. The road ahead opened up into a dual carriageway. He stepped on the accelerator and shifted into fourth gear, reminding himself that childhood memories were secured in a vault for a very good reason.
14
The marketing manager’s breath was appalling, but Sinead disregarded it and smiled as she thanked him. As they shook hands, his fingers trailed her palm and then he winked before strutting off down the high street. She made a mental note of his too-close-together eyes and bushy eyebrows so she could blank the creep if she saw him again, having learnt the hard way that some men confused her professional friendly manner with genuine flirtation.
In her first week on the job, a coked-up city boy had failed to get her number, so returned later on with a mate and began harassing Sinead about what time she finished and did she want him to ‘give her an extra-large donation’. After several minutes of their classic bants, she had to threaten to ring the police. They called her a lesbian and went off cackling and high-fiving each other. Since then, she’d toned down the flirtation and learned to recognise men who expected something extra after she’d signed them up.
Dylan approached, clutching two takeaway coffees. She thanked him as he handed one over and then dislodged the lid to let the coffee cool. Since he’d asked her out last week, Sinead had been unsure of how to handle him. On the one hand, she was flattered. He wasn’t bad-looking – she’d heard gossip about a girl on another team who had a crush on him. So why didn’t she just go out with him on a date?
Somewhere deep inside her, she knew what the problem was. Sinead liked bad boys: the ones she couldn’t have, and the ones that would never stay. If someone nice came along, she’d always reject him before it got serious. She thought she was doing him a favour. She had too many issues; he wouldn’t know how to handle her. Heidi had once told Sinead she must enjoy being treated like shit, because that’s how all her boyfriends treated her – sooner or later.
Dylan was just too nice; he had no edge. There was no danger. Anyway, even if she’d fancied him, getting involved with a colleague would be a mistake. So she’d not mentioned the incident. She just pretended it hadn’t happened. Except that Dylan was now acting stand-offish with her, taking extended breaks and noticeably downplaying his usual matey manner. She glanced at him; he was watching the marketing manager as the man waited at the traffic lights, looking back over his shoulder to see if Sinead was checking him out.
‘I tried stopping that one yesterday. Dickhead told me to get a proper job.’
‘I got twenty a month out of that dickhead.’
‘Big spender.’
‘You’re in a funny mood today,’ Sinead said.
Dylan rocked back on his heels. ‘I ran out of weed last night. Didn’t get much kip.’ He avoided her look.
Sinead smoothed away her fringe which the wind kept blowing into her face. ‘You smoke too much of that stuff.’
‘Yeah, yeah. You sound like my mum.’
She’d not meant it to sound like that. The truth was she should really be taking him to task for getting high on the job, but she didn’t want to be that kind of person. She didn’t care what her team did as long as they met their targets, and even if they didn’t she’d try and help them out. Sinead lightly touched Dylan’s elbow. He seemed to freeze; his whole body went rigid.
‘Dylan? Are we cool? I mean, you know, the other day–’
‘’Course, yeah. Absolutely. Forget about that. Misunderstanding.’ Dylan stepped back a few paces. He pointed up the street, past Dina who was near the traffic lights. ‘I’ll take Argos. Get the lunchtime crowd and… yeah. See you later.’ He started to go, but Sinead hadn’t finished.
‘Okay then. I’ll check in with you at lunch. Tell Dina and Maisie I’ll come see them in an hour.’ He nodded. Sinead watched as he walked away. She called out, ‘Thanks for the coffee! I’ll get them tomorrow.’ Dylan raised his hand in acknowledgement, but didn’t stop. Sinead sighed. Yep, this was definitely awkward. She couldn’t wait to give him his performance review next month. That would be fun.
More potential donors were heading towards her. It had been a slow morning, with only two results so far. She already felt drained, and it was barely half eleven. Deciding a quick break was needed, she strolled away from the road to a paved seating area and sat on an empty bench.
Sinead’s mind wandered. She thought about Elliot and regretted being rude to him at the weekend. Making a good impression is what she was supposed to be doing, but somehow she’d ended up acting like a moody bitch. She hoped she’d redeemed herself afterwards. Not being invited to that party had really thrown her off balance. She’d convinced herself the girls hadn’t called her because it was probably a last-minute thing, but the rejection still hurt. And she couldn’t admit that, so of course she’d taken it out on Elliot. Sinead always hated herself when she acted like that. She’d make more of an effort to be nice to him when he got back.
She realised she hadn’t thought about Joel for a few days. Thank God. Out of sight, out of mind – maybe that actually worked. Yeah, right. It had worked until three seconds ago. Now she was thinking about him again. She wondered what he’d been up to. Was he thinking about her? Setting the half-empty coffee container on the arm of the bench, she delved into a trouser pocket for her phone and checked for messages. Nada. The frequency of texts between Sinead and her friends had definitely decreased. More of hers were going unanswered. When she did get a reply from Heidi or Magz, it was only after two or three days. So much for instant communication.
A strong gust of wind swept the cup off the bench. It fell to the ground, spilling coffee across the paving stones. Sinead palmed her phone, jumped up and chased the empty container as it blew across the pavement. Catching up to it, she stamped her foot, squashing the cup flat. She bent down, grabbed it, paced over to a recycling bin, and dropped it in.
As she raised her head, something caught her attention. On the other side of Balham High Road, a familiar figure shuffled along, dodging through the crowds. Sinead grinned.
‘Magz!’ she shouted.
Her friend kept on walking.
Sinead called her name again. There was a break in the traffic and Sinead was sure she could be heard. But Magz didn’t react. Sinead put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Magz looked up and saw Sinead waving. Instantly, Magz turned away and quickened her pace. Sinead slowly lowered her arm. What the fuck was that? She watched her old housemate dodging through the crowd before turning a corner and moving out of sight.
Sinead stood there, perplexed. In her smartphone she found Magz’s number. A guy accidentally jostled her as he hurried past. He looked back and apologised, but Sinead didn’t react. For the next minute she was staring at the spot across the road where her old mate had just been.
15
He was wiping brown sauce from his chin when he saw the first girl leave the house. The short, mousey-haired plain one. He put the half-eaten bacon roll on the dashboard while watching her pull the door shut and then button up her raincoat. As the newsreader read the eight o’clock bulletin, he minimised the volume and quickly consulted the photographs on his BlackBerry: this one was Heidi. She hurried along the short path from the three-storey Victorian house to the road, and then she stopped to rummage around in her backpack for a few moments before finding whatever it was she thought she’d forgotten – and then she headed off towards the bus stop at the junction with the main road. He stretched his arms and yawned. The bacon roll had left his fingers greasy; he fumbled for a napkin in the paper bag and wiped his hands clean.