Every Second Counts

Chapter Twelve

MAGGIE BANCROFT IS EASY TO TRACK DOWN. She lives on the sixth floor of a run-down tenement building and she's a nurse at a nearby old peoples Home. I spend several days on surveillance. She is methodical. Up at 6 a.m. Coffee across the road at a Diner dead on 7.15 a.m. Into her car at 7.45 and arrives at work at 8.15. There she stays supporting the elderly until she leaves at 5.15. She picks up groceries at a grocery chain on her way home and is back for the entire evening by 5.45 p.m. I expected Maggie to meet up with friends, but she doesn't. Every day I am disappointed there is no sign of Reuben Houston. And every day I am getting closer to 8 p.m. Friday night.

The tension mounts. I throw up my breakfast on Thursday morning and by 9 p.m. Thursday night I am scouring a new neighbourhood for the man who will ease my tension. I find him at Castilles Bar at 10 p.m. We arrive at a hotel I have booked at 11 p.m. By 1 a.m. we have reached a crescendo and he is yelling, 'Yes, babe. Yes!' And I am moaning inwardly as the tension flies out of my existence and is replaced by the calmness that seeps into every part of my body. This, to me, is better than an orgasm! This selfish act I indulge in every Thursday night, well nearly every Thursday night since I set up the video link with the girl in the dark room, is my salvation.

I lay in this strangers arms with only one thought.

I want this feeling to last forever.

At some time before daybreak I saunter out of the hotel room and call a taxi. The next few hours is heavenly bliss as I lounge in my own bed in a blurred state of peaceful slumber. When I awake, I savour the few more peaceful hours I know I will experience before the full weight of my horrible life comes crashing down on me...and her, the girl in the dark room.

Two hours later I'm dressed.

And its fucking Deja view all over again.

I hate my life!

Amidst me feeling sorry for myself and in between my bouts chucking up my lunch I get an unexpected phone call.

'Damien, how lovely to hear from you.'

'Just wondering how you are?'

'I'm fine. Absolutely fine.' Obviously a lie, but I'm feeling a hell of a lot better now Damien has rung. 'How are you?'

'Um. Yeah. Great,' he stammers.

'To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?'

'Well, first of all, I was hoping you were coming out my way this weekend. We could do lunch? Or, if you stay the night, we could try that new Restaurant I've been telling you about.'

I'm all hyped up even though I know he doesn't mean for me to stay the night at his place, he means my parent's house. And OK, so he must have been talking about the new Restaurant to some other woman, cos it wasn't me. But, there's no way I'm going to let on about his faux pas.

'Yes, as a matter of fact I am coming out this weekend.' Obviously I am now. Wild horses couldn't keep me away!

'And another thing,' he starts off tentatively, 'I wondered if we could have a chat about some of your mother's jewellery. I could value them for you? You may want to sell some or at least know their value for insurance purposes.'

My euphoria plummets. This is the real reason he wants to see me. But then I remind myself the last time we met he definitely came across amorous and whether it is just Red's green lenses, 'I'll have Damien Crowder any way I can!

'Of course if you don't want to part with any of them, that's fine. But if you did want to sell one or two, you could tell me about their history. Buyers love that sort of stuff.'