Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller (9 page)

14

Ben parked his MG outside her house. She’d asked him to beep his horn when he arrived, but instead, he turned the engine off, shook the creases out of his trousers and shirt sleeves, and walked to her door. He pressed the bell and waited with his hands clasped. Her father opened the door and inspected him briefly, his eyes impassive behind his glasses.

Ben smiled. ‘Hello, Mr Edmunds, I’m Ben.’ He proffered his hand.

Mr Edmunds shook it firmly, his stare steely and cold. ‘Yeah, I heard about you. Where did you meet Jennifer?’

‘In The Cube. It’s a night club.’

‘I know what it is, son. Why were you in there?’ Mr Edmund’s thick, greying eyebrows arched expectantly.

‘It’s where you meet people,’ he said.

‘You not got many friends, huh?’

‘Not any as special as your daughter.’ He didn’t flinch from the glare.

Mr Edmunds rolled his lips together. ‘What do you do, Ben?’

‘I’m a personal trainer.’

‘And where are you taking Jennifer?’

‘Ice skating.’ It amused Ben to play along to the interview-style conversation.

‘And what time will she be home?’

‘Whatever time you set, sir.’

Mr Edmunds moved his hand to his mouth as if he was holding a microphone. ‘She’s got to get up early for work. She won’t want to be late or drunk,’ he warned. ‘Eleven’s reasonable.’

Ben nodded. ‘Okay.’

Mr Edmunds called Jenny, who was there in seconds. She smiled at Ben, kissed her father goodbye, told him she wouldn’t be late, and then walked down the path.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Ben said to her father, who nodded.

Ben followed Jenny to his car and opened her door. She looked stunning in her white, halterneck top and black leggings. When they were both in their seats, she looked over.

‘That’s why I told you to beep the horn!’

He smiled, fired up the engine and slowly pulled away. ‘He’s only being a good father. I understand.’

Jenny felt tension release. She worried that her father would scare away a potential boyfriend with his dismissive attitude. When Ben knocked, her father insisted that he should greet her date – he had a right to meet the boy looking after her tonight, right? She listened intently and smiled at Ben’s responses. He was so cool, so undaunted by her father’s interrogation. It was one of those occasions when you fear the worst, then afterwards wonder why you’d made such a fuss. Ben had made it look easy.

After skating, then went to the bar overlooking the rink. She watched the skaters while Ben ordered drinks. They’d had such a laugh. Neither of them could skate well, and they’d spent most of their time on the floor. At times, they’d skated hand in hand.

‘So who were you out with at The Cube?’ Jenny asked as he placed two glasses of orange juice on the table. ‘I didn’t see your mates.’

‘No one. I knew you’d be there. I didn’t want distractions.’

Jenny was about to smile until she saw his serious expression. ‘That’s a bit-’ She trailed off. ‘It’s like I had no choice.’

Ben leaned in, and rested his hand on hers. The warmth was comforting to her. ‘You could’ve turned me away, but I hadn’t considered that.’

She pulled her hand away, not too fast. ‘Why were you so sure, so full of yourself?’ She said ‘full’ too angrily, she thought, and briefly regretted it.

‘I never think about failure. It’s not something I do.’

Jenny resisted a smile
–
it wouldn’t be in keeping with her tone. ‘So what if I’d said I wasn’t interested?’

Ben rolled his head playfully. ‘I would’ve talked you out of it.’

‘That’s disturbing.’

Ben shook his head, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’s really not. I could tell we had something when we first met. The way we interacted. We fancied each other, but we couldn’t take it further because of Geoff.’

‘What if I told you you’re wrong about that?’

He laughed. ‘I’d ask why you’re here now.’

She didn’t quite share the humour. ‘So what about your friend, Geoff? Does he know about this?’

‘I had to tell him. He’s not happy about it, but he knows we’re both single and free to go out with who we want to.’ He shrugged. ‘Who cares? I had to cope with you two together for long enough.’

Jenny sniffed a laugh. ‘It wasn’t that long.’

‘It is when you’re...’ He didn’t finish.

‘I bet Geoff told you I’m frigid.’

‘Not exactly. He told me I’d have to be patient, or words to that effect.’

‘He’s right about that.’

Ben took a couple of gulps, then banged his glass on the table. ‘I told you, I don’t care about that. As long as we do it, say, when we’re married.’

Both laughed. ‘I’ll make that promise if we go that far!’ Her smile quickly faded. ‘Geoff was...cunning, that’s how I’d describe him. Like most of my boyfriends. But Rick really hurt me. I trusted him and he used me. He made me feel cheap.’

Rick had come along about a year before Geoff, when she was in a very vulnerable place. All her friends had lost their virginities, and boys were ignoring her because she hadn’t. Loneliness and a need to feel wanted had affected her judgement, and she’d dropped her guard with him. And she paid for it. Once he’d ‘ruined her’ (his expression), he left, and didn’t even bother to call. He treated her like an animal for a couple of weeks and that was it.

Humiliated and despairing, Jen had promised herself that she’d not sacrifice her body like that again. To sleep with another boy, she’d have to love him.

Ben reached for her hand again, and held it a little tighter. ‘Geoff told me about him. He’s a mug. He may have got to sleep with you, but you’ll never be his girlfriend again. Short-term gain, long-term major loss.’

Jenny looked at Ben’s hand, and then at his deep, dark eyes. ‘What’s so special about me, Ben? I know I’m pretty and all that, but why are you so into me?’

Ben withdrew his hand and looked around. ‘I’ve done my shagging around. It doesn’t fulfil me. I want something serious, and you’re the first girl I’ve met that I want to get serious with. I don’t know what it is about you exactly, but it’s blatant to me.’

She leaned in closer, with a sardonic smile. ‘You know that kind of stuff scares girls off, don’t you?’

‘Not you,’ he said boldly. ‘You’ve heard too much bullshit. You need someone genuine who talks from the heart.’

Jenny stared at him for a moment, until she felt her expression might reveal too much. ‘You seem to know me somehow. It’s weird and a bit alarming.’ She held his gaze again. ‘And quite flattering.’

‘You don’t need to be scared of me, Jenny. I’ll never hurt you. I’ll just protect you.’

The longest gaze yet. Jenny had to break it. It was weakness. ‘I wonder how that bloke is from The Cube.’

‘He’s probably cut down on his drinking.’

‘Don’t you think you were a bit forceful?’

‘Listen Jenny, that loser’s probably spent his life taking advantage of girls. Maybe I put a stop to it. Next time he sees a girl alone and thinks about touching her up, he’ll remember what I did.’

Jenny was staring into space. ‘He was a pervert, I suppose. He might have done more if you hadn’t been there.’

‘Exactly. I think I went too light on him, personally.’

She lifted her drink and shuffled back in her seat. ‘I certainly feel safe with you, I’ll admit that.’

‘But you won’t admit how you feel about me yet?’

She closed her eyes for a second. ‘Not on a first date.’

He grinned. ‘Yeah, I’ll give you that. I’m a bit too honest.’

‘Honesty’s good, but you don’t really know me yet. Would you lend money to a bloke you’d met two or three times?’

‘If I knew where to find him.’

Jenny laughed. ‘You think you’re so tough, don’t you? Just because you floored a drunk boy, that doesn’t prove you’re tough.’

‘True. So to you I might just be brave.’

‘Brave and aggressive.’

‘You have to be aggressive in a fight.’

Jenny held his stare. ‘Fighting doesn’t impress me.’

‘I know. But it’s been a big part of my life.’

‘Why?’ she asked quietly.

‘That’s another story for another time. This is the just the first date, remember?’

15

Ryan had always been a hard man. If anyone pushed him too far, they’d regret it for a long time. Sometimes, they’d regret it forever.

One night, about eight years ago, Dave and him were in The Whiphand, an underground pub in a run-down part of north London. Dark enough to hide blemishes, the pub smelled damp and musty, and sawdust covered its floor. The bar staff wore black and purple colours and had silver studs pinned in their faces.

Ryan and Dave had stumbled into three girls and two blokes. Ryan recalled the conversation…

‘What do you two do?’ the first bloke asked him.

‘I’m a warehouse manager.’ He winked at the girls and nodded towards Dave. ‘He’s a
police
constable!’

Dave blushed. Ryan smirked - he couldn’t resist telling them. He knew Dave liked to conceal his profession from people when he went out. He’d told Ryan there were two reasons for this – First, he didn’t want to be volunteered to deal with any difficult situations because that would effectively place him on duty drunk, which was a disciplinary offence. Second, everyone had a grudge against the police, and he didn’t want to spend his evening off arguing with some slag about police procedure.

The truth, Ryan decided, was that despite his position, Dave hated confrontation. He was a weedy man with no muscle mass - a physical joke. Furthermore, he had no aggression to assist him. And while he thought about it, although Dave would cite his tolerance and intellect as a defence, he was an irritating bastard at times, and these qualities served nothing more than to patronise and incite. Fuck, at times he felt like lamping Dave himself.

‘Yeah?’ grunted bloke two threateningly. He was over six feet, scrawny, unshaven, with greasy brown hair hanging by his shoulders. ‘Show Emma your truncheon,
cunt-stubble
.’

Ryan tensed up. He’d called Dave a cunt. That was forbidden.

‘Yeah, yeah, heard it all before,’ Dave said. ‘Ten points for originality.’

Ryan glared at Dave. ‘Yeah, you
cunt
,’ he shouted to him. ‘Let’s see your fucking truncheon.’ He clenched his fists. ‘I
hate
the police!’

Dave looked at Ryan in disbelief. ‘What the
hell
are you talking about?’

‘Listen to him!’ Ryan shook his head at bloke two. ‘Typical pig – thinks he’s feared, thinks he’s tough. Looks at us like we’re all shit.’

Full of Dutch courage, bloke two’s aggression escalated. ‘Ain’t got your back-up now, ’ave yer? It took ten of you fuckers to bring me down!’ He pointed his finger at Dave. ‘You’re all faggots. None of you can fucking fight!’

Dave shook his head. ‘I presume the crack cocaine gave you strength?’

Bloke two lunged towards Dave. Ryan immobilised him before he made contact by grabbing his arms and then whispered in his ear, ‘Come outside with me.’

‘Why?’ Bloke two broke free.

Ryan leaned in. ‘Don’t do my mate in. I’ve got some gear.’

Ryan headed for the steps. Bloke two followed him, staring at Dave’s shadowy form over his shoulder with hate-filled eyes. Outside, Ryan strolled along the dark and empty back street with bloke two beside him.

‘Let’s see it then,’ hissed bloke two.

Ryan throbbed with rage. He bit his lip until blood trickled onto his shirt collar. The alley sunk into the night ten feet away to his left. He had to make it, just a few more steps. He dug his chin into his chest and closed his eyes. Blood rushed furiously behind his eyelids, drowning his self-restraint. ‘Get in the alley,’ he mumbled.

Bloke two straightened up. ‘What?’

Ryan opened his eyes. Grabbing thick clumps of bloke two’s hair, he frantically dragged him into the dark and quiet refuge, knocking empty bottles and cans against walls spaced about eight feet apart. Ryan’s nails pierced the palms of his own hands, but he felt nothing. Bloke two tried to hold Ryan’s legs together, but Ryan broke from the grip with ease, so then he threw punches at Ryan’s groin but his reach was too short to connect. When Ryan released his grip, bloke two managed to dive forwards and hit him in the leg, but it had no effect.