2.a.m. The phone ringing persistently in the silence, in my head, in my dreams, in my tangled thoughts.
"Good morning. Sir... Albany Street Police station here"
Not too sure if I was still dreaming ... what was going on!
"We have a lady here who has been involved in a motor accident she is asking for you to come and fetch her..."
Suddenly, quite suddenly, wide awake. Jennifer, no doubt, drunk, as she sometimes was, had been involved in a set.
Thought of Mark asleep ... how it would look my carting him up the West End in the early hours ... there would be some funny looks, some curious questions... hesitated... realised I was sweating, what a fucking mess. No, would not go and fetch her, let the cocky cow get a cab.
Put the receiver gently down.
Waited.
A long wait into the dawn creeping across the morning sky, heard the street door go below. Jennifer's feet on the stairs, how often I had heard this same scenario. Key in the lock, door quietly closing. She rustled into the bedroom smelling quite expensively, a mixture of Chanel and Champagne.
I, quietly boiling, with her, with the whole situation.
Not her usual self by any means.
Obviously quite shaken by whatever had happened.
In pain, make up had run down amongst the dried up tears.
Made the coffee, she climbed into bed, could see her arms and shoulder covered in small cuts and long scratches.
Strangely, she turning to me after so long turning away.
Too late for that .... maybe she thought me simply another punter, easily manipulated, quickly willing to forgive, to fall in with her misfortunes, forgetting that almost everything she knew, I had taught her, unaware possibly, this moment the decisive one in both our lives.
It could have easily been patched up between us... there and then.
She was quite friendly, anxious to talk, how she tried to climb up the Wall of Albany street Barracks at fifty miles an hour, how it was not her fault ... how another woman driver had swerved in front of her and so on ... it all came tumbling out ... tears, sobs, arms about me, head on my chest, Mark came in clutching his Teddy ... a family reunion ... I would go to Sainsbury's and get some food, she should get some rest ... the whole scenario....
"I" would sort it out later... as ever...as always
... midday came, all quite cool, about to take Mark over the Park, she would spend the rest of the day in bed. Somehow managed to sit on my own doubts regarding this twist in the situation. Maybe, just maybe, this incident would do something for the three of us. Jennifer did look as though she needed all the help I could give her... Until the phone rang ...
The telephone, such an instrument of fate in my life.
The transformation in this young woman was, to say the very least, remarkable. She suddenly sitting straight up, both hands round the phone, heart pumping until her body positively glowed. As if by magic Mark and I no longer existed in her life ...
"Heathrow! Yes Darling" .... "will be there in one hour ... in one tiny hour ... Darling!"
She was up shoving her things together. No trace of her night's experience .... I helped her ... opening the window throwing out her clothes and anything else I could find. She was screaming ... put one on her, the blood running down from the corner of her mouth.
Dragged her down the stairs with a suitcase, her gear half hanging out. Dragged to the corner just as a cab stopped to make his turn. Threw her in, the suitcase following.
"Heathrow, Mate!"
He glanced at me and decided not to refuse.
She looked back. Momentarily, through the rear window, our eyes met....................
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