CLEANER: Chapter Four - Part Seven

DAHLIA

I finished with my agent and the lady from the magazine by the middle of the afternoon and by then I was desperate to get rid of them.

We’d drove back up to Summertop after lunch was over and I'd gave Leah the tour so that she could plan her approach for the photo shoot. Tommy and she went on chatting amiably, but though I did my best to chip in, I couldn’t really focus.

My brain was like the inside of a tumble dryer with different garments flopping and turning, galling into view and then disappearing; reappearing seconds later. I felt extremely edgy. I had pent-up energy with nowhere to apply it. One compulsion would enter my mind, giving me a jolt of urgent desire, then another countermanding one would come.

And all the while, Leah and Tommy chattered on about this crappy photo shoot as if any of it really mattered.

I was getting a headache. I didn’t know what I wanted at all anymore. I just knew I had all these battling instincts nudging me in one direction after another and I needed the space to think. I couldn’t stand this prattle anymore.

“Look,” I said, “do you mind if we call it a day?”

They both stopped and looked at me in mild alarm. Tommy had been half way through yet another funny story I’d heard dozens of times before. We were standing over the pool.

I smiled, trying to cover for the abruptness of my interjection but I was aware of how brusque it had been. “Sorry. I’m really sorry,” I said, “but I’ve been gestating the mother of all migraines for the last hour and I think I need to go and lie down. I’m sorry. Do you think you’ve seen enough to allow you to prepare properly?”

Leah smiled back. “Of course. Yes. That’s no problem. I’ve seen more than enough. I ought to start getting back anyway. It’s a long drive back to London and I have a deadline first thing tomorrow.”

Tommy stepped in, chattering again, covering up for my curtness and smoothing the waters. He started guiding Leah toward the front of the house and I went after them, looking down at the floor, totally disconnected from the conversation, thinking about the dessert at lunch, the egg custards I had in the fridge, Melissa sitting on my couch, me vacuuming the floor, my brother’s stern but caring gaze, the imminent photo shoot and interview, my face on the cover of their magazine.

They paused on the front step and the conversation inched on still longer. They just wouldn’t bloody go! It went on until Tommy caught sight of my face and the flare of alarm his on features took on gave me an inkling of how rough I must have looked.

He thanked Leah and kissed her cheek. She thanked him and me and I did my best not to shout at her.

“I’m sorry about cutting it short,” I said. “I’m really excited about meeting you again next week.”

Leah smiled and got into her car. Tommy and I watched her go, then he turned to me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Dahlia...”

“Nothing’s wrong Tommy. I’m perfectly fine. I just have a bitch of a headache.”

“Right. A headache.”

He looked at me. I looked at him.

“Do you want me to stick around?” he asked. “Keep you company? Swim in your pool? I could take you out to dinner later.”

“No. Thanks Tommy. I just need to be by myself. Do you mind?”

He clearly did. “Course not. I’ll just get off.” He went down the front step then came back and gripped my shoulder; kissed me on the cheek, lingering a fraction of a second longer than I was expecting him to; stepped back, still holding my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. Really. I will be. I just need to chill out for a bit; sit in a dark room or something.”

“Okay love. I’ll see you soon.”

I stood watching as he went back his car and got in. He regarded me again with concerned eyes then set off.

I waited until his car was out of sight and then I got my phone out and brought up a search engine, typing in what I was hoping to find. A certain kind of shop. I'd never seen one in Nockton but perhaps in Barton...

It thought for a second.

Yes. There was one. I grinned, feeling something comparable to a hot flush come over me.

I stopped, questioned myself, then went straight to my car. Every step of the way I felt the urge to turn around and go back inside, make myself get on my treadmill and burn off the extra food I’d been having. I didn’t do that. I got in my car and drove down the lane through Pinecrest village, tapping the steering wheel impatiently at the road work traffic lights. When that cleared I drove faster than I should have done the rest of the way down the hill.