Jay decided to immerse himself in his work. He wouldn’t allow any more unforeseen events to shudder his already unsteady foundations. He spent his working hours looking for other spores of questionable activity whilst hoping that Steve and Ben would provide him with the necessary information to carry out a questionable activity of his own. Days turned into weeks as daffodils signalled the first tentative signs of Spring. Grass began its annual hardy push through the newly softened earth, greeting the outside with a dash of lamented colour. The world came alive once more bringing freshness to the air and light to the skies. Office girls ran around the City of London in tight black miniskirts and blouses whilst men ran around with jackets draped over their shoulders, exposing their almost fluorescent white upper arms.
The rhythmic mating ritual of the City was in full swing; The girls would go out in groups of two or three and sit by a bench alongside St. Paul’s. They would play hard to get as the guys sauntered past, playing hard to please. Expensive jacket labels would be blatantly exposed in the hope that the girls would notice. Peahens and peacocks strutting their stuff in deference to Jay, a mere cynical onlooker. On days like these Jay would swear at the ever optimistic pigeons trying to share his BLT. His thoughts would digress to dreams of a different life, a different future, a different lunch..
“Alright mate? You looked as if you were somewhere else” Steve squeezed Jay’s shoulder gently “Look what I’ve got for you.. I printed it all out so there weren’t any clues left lying around.. you know.. just in case.. Ben’s stuff is in there too.”
“Oh.. thanks Steve!” Jay’s eyes lit up like a schoolboy at Christmas as he ripped open the envelope. Jay started reading the list of names and addresses, almost forgetting Steve was there.
“Better get back then.. Hope that’s what you wanted?” Jay was still locked in his own little world “Well.. right then.. I’ll be off.. Nice talking to you mate” Steve couldn’t hold his sarcasm back any more as he got up on his bike to go.
“Oh.. sorry mate.. I was miles away.. Yeah.. this is brilliant.. Erm.. Fancy a pint? If you’re hungry.. they’re doing mixed grills at the George again”
“No.. I’m alright.. Just had a sarny.. Better get back before they miss me at the office.. I told them I was going to the bog.. so they’ll probably think I’ve got the shits by now” Steve sped off on his mountain bike, back into the bustle of the City.
___________________
Jay’s gas look-a-like log fire was not his own invention. It had been installed by Mr. Singh, who still owned the freehold of the house. Mr. Singh did not possess the best sense of taste, having painted the living room lime green with faint orange borders. Jay had painted over these peculiarities together with Gemma.
Jay’s graduation photo still stood on the mantelpiece showing him as the proud owner of a newly gained degree. He was dressed in robes and a mortarboard. The picture filled in the gap between the fireplace and the large gilt-edged mirror hanging on the wall. The mirror reflected light back into the living room. The white sofa, a triple seated sleeping version, was placed centrally in the room, parallel to the large bay window at the front of the house. The television was placed to the right of the fire, together with his electric guitar and amplifier. Jay’s work area occupied the opposite corner, alongside the window. Thick and slightly bombastic yellow drapes hung on either side of the window, held back by gold tassels attached to ornate hooks on the wall. The dark mahogany floor was set off by the now cream coloured walls.
The apartment was minimalistic; one living room, one bedroom, one bathroom and one kitchen with a hall connecting all four rooms and providing a space for coats and shoes. The neighbour’s staircase ran behind a rather too thin hall wall. It was on these stairs that Mr. Singh’s previous lodger – an Indian bank director – had performed his morning workouts every morning, doing step-aerobics on the stairs and waking Jay up in the process. The new neighbours were altogether much more tolerable, possibly due to the fact that none of them did any exercise.
But the fire, no matter how out of place it looked, had been a cosy highlight in winter evenings, cuddled up in front of the telly with Gemma. The memories were beginning to fade away, as if by some kind of natural anaesthetic, but some things would always be there. He sat on his living room floor and opened the envelope, in the exact same spot where he used to sit with Gemma under his arm. He had a sudden feeling of ‘déjà-vu’, but his mind wasn’t focussed on Gemma any more. His thoughts were firmly fixed on the mystery woman from Norway.
He began reading the list of people’s names and addresses, frantically trying to find the name of his mystery woman and hoping that in doing so he would also be able to find himself.
The list seemed to go on for ever - one boring name after another. Jay decided to skim read. He would optimise the process and concentrate on foreign sounding names as her accent hadn’t sounded particularly ‘British’. But then why did she travel back to the UK if she wasn’t British? His mind started to wander around various questions as the monotony of the task began to take over. Jay had to get a grip several times, forcing himself to read laboriously on. He hoped his new process would work, and that he wouldn’t miss any names. By 10 pm he had reached Mary Thomas, Brian Thomson and Theodor Theolopadous. He poured himself a glass of Valpolicella – the expensive one which didn’t give him a headache - and sat down again in front of the sofa. The whole exercise had horrendous similarities to doing ‘detention’ at school; writing lines, then reading them aloud again and again, hour after tortuous hour. Jay gradually dozed off, letting his wine glass glide out of his hand, spilling what was left of the contents on the floor. He woke up abruptly and was immediately annoyed with himself but became distracted with his own reflection in the pool of red wine lying in front of him.
“I don’t know who you are or even what your name is, yet I spend hour after hour searching for you. Is this insanity? Am I insane? I don’t know if you would even talk to me should we ever meet but, should we meet, I could then say that I tried, I did my best. It is, after all, better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. All I can offer you is an offer of my love, uncomplicated, accidental but meaningful like this pool on the floor..”
Jay’s imaginary letter was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a name – Sajni Thupani. Everything else was there – her address, email, telephone number. This had to be her. Jay decided that there was only one way to find out. He grabbed his mobile telephone, changed the settings to hide his number and started dialling. The telephone rang several times. Jay was already feeling guilty about ringing so late, but he just had to hear her voice. A woman answered in a rather muffled, tired voice.. “Hello?”
Jay hung up. He didn’t want to worry her by trying to explain who he was and what he was doing. On the other hand, he felt guilty about ringing her up so late and not saying anything. That might have worried her too. Jay sent Simon a text message asking if he could come to work a bit later the next day. Simon replied almost immediately saying ‘ok’. All Jay had to do now was sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day and he needed to look and feel his best.
___________________
Jay was rudely awoken by his unruly and extremely loud alarm clock. This was further enhanced by the chorus of bin lids being slammed down by noisy rubbish men outside. Dawn was breaking and light began to shine through a gap in the curtains. Jay peered into the bathroom mirror to see how awake he looked. He wiped some sleep from his eyes. Apart from the infected hair that was coming up on his cheek, he was actually looking reasonable he thought. A quick shave, shower and shampoo later, Jay was togged up and ready to go. He wanted to be in Wimbledon by 7:30 am at the latest.
On arrival at Wimbledon, he hadn’t banked on Wimbledon Hill Road being quite as long as it looked. It was bad enough with it being a hill, and the tube station seemed to be a good distance from his final destination according to the map.
Jay bought a cup of coffee and a newspaper at the k
iosk and trudged up the road checking house numbers along the way in the hope that number 67E would soon turn up. 13, 27, 39, 51, 63. Jay finally arrived at a modern looking red-brick block of flats. He positioned himself in best spy style outside, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He would wait until his mystery woman left the building and take things from there. He checked the time. It was 07:33 am. He watched and watched, looking at everyone and everything coming out of or going in to the building. His eyes were starting to hurt due to the concentration. By 08:15 am Jay had witnessed several people opening curtains and leaving the front entrance, but no sign of his mystery woman. Surely she had to leave for work soon? But what if there was another entrance? The morning chill began to take its toll on Jay’s hands; they were beginning to freeze. He was also beginning to feel the effects on his bladder. By 08:54 there was still no sign of the mystery woman and Jay’s bladder was about to burst. If she wouldn’t come out then he would go in. He would hopefully also find a toilet.
Jay pushed all the buttons simultaneously on the intercom and heard a buzz as the door lock was released. He pushed the door open and Jay dashed towards the stairs. The building apparently consisted of two flats on each floor. A and B were on the ground so he guessed he had to go to the third floor to find 67E. Jay walked past a half open door to a broom cupboard on the second floor. He walked back, looked around for any signs of people in the stair well and looked inside the broom cupboard. There were bottles, bags and various mops and buckets. Jay went in and closed the door behind him quietly. He relieved himself into a gallon container of floor cleaner, hoping he wouldn’t set off any chemical reactions whilst he did so.
His relief was immediate, as was his feeling of self-disgust. He hurried out of the cupboard again and proceeded up the stairs to the next floor. He saw the letter ‘F’ on the door ahead of him so ‘E’ had to be opposite, on the left hand side. He pondered, cautiously listening for any signs of life in the apartment. He could hear noises which sounded like someone singing along to music. He could also smell the distinctive aroma of Indian spices wafting under the door. This had to be the place. There was no turning back. Jay knocked on the door, and waited.
“Hello?!” came a rather timid, questioning voice from the other side of the door “Who is it?”
Jay stood in front of the viewer mounted on the door and gathered himself, clearing his throat.
“Hi.. Err..my name is James Jarrett.. I believe we met in Norway?”
“What? Who are you?” the woman replied with a thick Indian accent.
“Err.. James Jarrett.. We met in Norway.. I ju..”
“Don’t waste my time young man! I’ve never been to Norway and I’ve no intention of going there! Are you some sort of timeshare salesperson? How did you get into the building? I’m going to call the police!”
Jay was overcome by panic at the woman’s reaction. He knew that this could not be the mystery woman; she sounded too old and her voice was wrong.
“I.. I’m really sorry Ms. Thupani.. I seem to have made a terrible mistake.. I’m going now!”
“What? Where did you get my name from?! Are you one of those stalkers?! I’m calling the police you pervert!”
Jay ran down the stairs, hopping over every second step to save time, praying he wouldn’t sprain his ankle in the process. Once out of the building he stopped to catch his breath before walking more casually, and less suspiciously, back down to the tube station. He just hoped that there weren’t any surveillance cameras installed in Ms. Thupani’s building. He started looking around, trying to avoid any cameras that might be in the vicinity. Jay wiped away the beads of sweat which had appeared on his forehead as he boarded the first tube to the City.