Chapter 4

“Are you certain about that?”

“Absolutely,” I replied, “I can just picture what will happen if we decide that there’s nothing left of the us that was and we’re just going to be friends, Mum will probably go bananas. I can’t be around that anymore.”

“Then can I make a suggestion?” she said.

“Of course,” I agreed.

“You’re still going to be faced with a situation where you’re over here and Cal is over there, you’d only see each other at weekends and not even every weekend. If you’re going to live in a hotel for the next what, three months? Why not live in one over there where at least you’d be able to see each other regularly.”

Cal’s face lit up at that suggestion.

“That sounds like a good idea and it might stop Mum just dropping in for a chat,” I said, before Cal could say anything.

“Well, if you’re going next door to pack, I’ll come with you,” Cal said, “that way your Mum is less likely to kick off at you and Mum can have Peter at the station before we get back. Are you going to go over there today?”

“No,” I replied, “if it’s all right with you, I’ll book into the Tulip for tonight and beg a lift with you tomorrow.”

“That’s a great idea,” she said.

“Why?” I asked, worried that I might regret the question once I knew the answer.

“It means you can take me out to dinner tonight and we can go dancing afterwards.”

“I’d better make sure I pack my ‘taking a lady out to dinner’ clothes then,” I said.

We walked together round to my parents’ house and Cal let us in. I had my key, but since I no longer felt that it was home, I didn’t want to use it.

Alison was in the living room, reading a book and as soon as she saw me, jumped up and hugged me.

“I was worried about you last night,” she said.

“I was fine,” I replied, “listen, I’m going to pack some things and move to a hotel for a while.”

“David,” she said, “you’ve got Cal with you. Does this mean?”

I interrupted her. “It means that I’ve got Cal with me, we’ve talked but we still have a way to go before we’re in a position to make any announcements. And the main reason I’m moving out is so we can do what we need to do without any interference.”

“What about?” she began.

“Peter?” Cal asked and Alison nodded, “He’s being taken to the station by my Mum, he showed his true colours this morning, I’m well rid of him.”

Alison looked like she wanted to ask for details but didn’t. She knew we’d tell her everything that we wanted her to know.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’ll be staying tonight at the Tulip in Glasshoughton, then I’m going to book into somewhere in the Manchester area.”

“But how will we stay in touch,” she asked, “if I don’t know where you are?”

“You can ring me; I can ring you and I promise you I will never block your number.”

“You’ve got to promise me to look after yourself too,” she said, “no skipping meals or anything like that.”

“I’ll even join a gym,” I said.

I disappeared upstairs and started packing things. I filled a suitcase with casual clothes and moved a couple of suits and three formal shirts, with ties into my suit hanger, then packed my laptop, external hard drive and DVD drive into the backpack that I’d bought in Vancouver and carried them all downstairs.

I carried them downstairs to where the two girls were still talking, I assumed from the fact that they went quiet as I opened the living room door that the subject of conversation had been me.

As the three of us carried my bags out to Cal’s car, her Mum pulled out, taking Peter down to the station. As they passed us, he gave us such a look of hatred that, if I ever actually worried about such things, would have had me quaking in my boots.

“Watch out for him back at school,” I told her, “I think he might be out for revenge.”

“There’s not much damage he can do,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“After that incident last September they put the story round school that I’d taken on the whole group of them, regardless of gender. According to them, you’re talking to the school bicycle.”

“Not according to me,” I said, “and I would sincerely hope that, if ever I’m in your school again, I never hear anything like that.”

After we both hugged my sister, we climbed into the car, belted up and Cal started the engine put the car into gear we pulled away from the kerb. Just as we were turning the corner, my Dad’s Jaguar came round with Mum in the passenger seat. She was surprised to see the two of us in Cal’s car, together, but we were on our way somewhere and chose not to stop and explain anything to them. Not that I felt that my mother deserved any explanation in any case.

We drove down to the Tulip Hotel in Glasshoughton and I took my backpack in with us as I went to register, or, rather to check if they had a room.

As we arrived at the counter the check-in person, a young lady by the name of Candy according to her name badge greeted us.

“Yes, sir, how may I help?” she asked as I stood before her.

“I need a room for the night,” I said, “do you have one.”

“We have lots, sir,” she replied, “I think that the question that you wanted to ask was, do we have one free.”

She looked at me again and then at Cal.

“Double room, sir?” she asked.

“No, it’s just me,” I said, “my friend just gave me a lift down.”

“Very well, sir, that will be seventy pounds for the night with breakfast,” I said, “I’ll need a credit card to pay for that.”

I took out my wallet and handed her my Amex Platinum card.

“Is this your card, sir?” she asked, “David James Barker.”

“Yes, it is,” I said, “although it’s a corporate card.”

“Ah,” she said, “that’s fine, I’m sorry but we do have to be careful. It’s issued to the company you work for?”

“Technically, no,” I said.

“Technically, no?”

“It was issued to the company that I own.”

“You own the company?” she said, “what company is that?”

“There are two,” I said, “DJB Enterprises Ltd, that runs my affairs in this country and DJB Enterprises LLC that runs them in America.”

“Oh, come on, you’re pulling my leg aren’t you.”

“No,” I replied, “tell me, did you ever see Space Academy?”

“The film?” she said, “Yes, I saw it when it first came out.”

“What was the name of the actor who played Greg Paradise?” Cal asked her.

“It was David something, he was from here in Cas, wasn’t he?”

“David J Barker,” Cal prompted.

“Yes,” she agreed, “that was it, David J ... Oh, that was you wasn’t it?”

I just nodded solemnly.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t recognise you.”

“That’s all right,” I replied, “sometimes I don’t recognise myself.”

“No,” Cal said, “it’s all the make-up he wears.”

“What, you wear make-up?” she asked.

“Only in my professional capacity.”

I filled in the registration form, she ran my card through the machine I punched in my pin and she handed me a key card.

“Room two-one-four, second floor,” she said, “the lifts are just round the corner on the left, we hope you have a pleasant stay. If there’s anything you need just dial nine on your room phone. Breakfast is seven am to ten.”

We went back out to the car and I retrieved my two bags and placed them on the ground behind the car. Cal walked over to me and hugged me, kissing me softly on the cheek.

“Pick you up about six for dinner?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “great, where do you want to go?”

“How about the Chequers at Ledsham?” she suggested, “the food is particularly good there.”

“I’ll ring and book,” I said, “and I’ll see you at six.”

“Six,” she repeated, “downstairs, or shall I come up.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Spoilsport,” she laughed as she climbed into the car. I picked my bags up and headed for the door, turning to wave her off before I went back inside, collected my backpack from the reception counter and headed to the lifts. I realised something, I may or may not like her very much, but she was still the girl I loved more than anybody else in the world.

The room was a good size and comfortable, as well as the bathroom with a walk-in shower and the ‘usual offices’, the bedroom was spacious with a king-sized bed, a sofa, desk, a wall-mounted big screen TV and a refreshment bar with a kettle, coffee and tea-making facilities and fridge underneath. A fairly standard mid-range hotel, but one that appeared to have gone a little bit further than usual to look after the comfort of their guests.

I unpacked my things for the evening and the next morning and left the rest untouched.

There was Rugby on the TV a cup match, Leeds v Huddersfield and I settled down to watch.

It was a bit of a stroll for Leeds and they ran out easy winners 44-6.

At five I turned the TV off and took a shower, dressed in smart casual clothes and at five to six, put on a light jacket and walked down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor to await my date.

It seemed strange to me to think of it as a date, I’m not sure that Cal and I had ever been out on a date before. Just me and her, meeting up and going somewhere by ourselves, culminating in one or other of us dropping the other off at home afterwards, or, in my case at a hotel.

I was actually looking forward to it.

She was on time and, when she entered the foyer, we hugged and walked out to the car.

She was silent all the way to Ledsham and I got the impression that something was troubling her.

As we came to a halt in the pub car park, I undid my seat belt and turned to face her.

“Cal,” I said, “what’s wrong? You’re incredibly quiet, which is not you and your mood seems depressed, you’re certainly not the bubbly girl who left me at the hotel earlier. What is it?”