The Scarlett Rose

Jacob stared vacantly out of the window, his hands submersed in a bowl of soapy water as he slowly moved a cloth over the dirty breakfast things. The bird house was lively that day - half a dozen sparrows perched on the roof or on the little spokes which jutted out of its sides and a couple of blue tits poked their tiny beaks through the netting which held the peanuts. He used to like birds as a child, watching them through his little binoculars and looking them up in the bird book; now their easy freedom only seemed to make him sad.

“Jake? Jacob? Are you listening? Did you hear what I just said?” Her voice reached him somehow through the room and he turned to look at her, stood in the doorway still in her dressing gown with unkempt hair and those huge ungainly slippers in the shape of camper vans. He was about to tell her that he was but she must have been able to see the emptiness in his eyes and the façade failed before it was even put in to place.

“For God’s sake, what’s wrong with you? You never listen when I’m talking to you! It’s your bloody parents who wanted this dinner, not mine, and your Mum is so fussy. Remember last time over the pheasant – like all of a sudden she was some kind of saint who never ate animals? God knows what that was about. And I’m the one who’ll get the blame – “

“No-one’s blaming you darling, I’m sorry, I’ve just got a lot on at work that’s all, Lots to think about.” Jacob pulled the plug from the sink and dried his hands. “What was the question?”

She sighed heavily, exaggeratedly, as though the question came with the weight of the world.

“I was asking you if we should have salmon or duck on Saturday.”

“Salmon,” He said decisively, “I definitely prefer salmon.”

Another sigh. “I knew you would say that. Salmon is so hard to get right. Last time I made a right mess of it. Your Mum’s going to be complaining about it again.”

Jacob drained his coffee and lifted his jacket and keys from the kitchen table.

“Then – the duck. I’ll be just as happy with duck. I really have to go honey, I’ve got a meeting at nine. I’ll see you tonight okay? Try not to worry about things. I’ll pick up something nice for dinner.”

“Don’t forget the cat litter!” She yelled at him on his way out.

Two hours later, Jacob stood in the men’s room washing his hands after his third visit of the morning. He had drunk too much coffee. Two cups in the meeting as well as the one at home, and it wasn’t even eleven o clock. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, blonde hair cropped short and pale skin. His eyes still a dark blue but sunken, he thought, greying round the edges. The purple tie was too vibrant against his white shirt. She had bought it for him, he remembered. He didn’t like it but he wore it to save an argument.

He wandered back to his office and sat down, one hand idly on the mouse as he flicked through some files, the other absently loosening his tie.

He jumped when the phone rang with an unfamiliar jingle, the landline rather than his mobile. It was rare that an external call came through on the landline and for a moment he daren’t look at it. His eyes flickered across the photo of her on his desk. Sarah. She looked pretty in the picture. It had been taken a few years ago before they married, whilst on holiday in Texas and she was wearing a cowboy hat over her long curls which she had bothered to dye blonde back then. She was smiling, happy.

He picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Jay? Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you!”

That soft voice, slightly raspy from too many cigarettes, with its Northern twang. Not really annoyed but playful, mock accusatory, desperate to speak to him. His heart seemed to stop for a moment, something waking up inside him.

“I’m sorry, I was in a meeting – “

“I thought you were going to call me last night?”

“Oh God, last night, it was a nightmare. I couldn’t get a moment away from her. I mean, at least not with a reasonable excuse.”

“You need to get a dog.”

“A –“

“Then you would have an excuse. Take the dog for a walk.”

“Jesus it’s bad enough with the bloody cats!”

She laughed. “Can you still meet me for lunch?”

“Yes, yes lunch. Half twelve? I’ll meet you at The Locksway. My treat. I don’t have to be back until two.”

“You are my treat.” She laughed again before saying goodbye. He sat with the receiver still pressed to his ear, the dialling tone like a flatline. His heart beat against his ribcage, desperate to get out.

Someone knocked on the door and he dropped the receiver.

“Come in.”

It was the secretary, Bella.

“Your eleven fifteen is here.”

Scarlett. Nothing like her. Like Sarah. Scarlett wouldn’t care whether it was duck or salmon so long as it was accompanied by a glass of Merlot and followed by a Marlboro Light and his hand leading her up to the bedroom. Scarlett, who didn’t own a dressing gown, only a selection of flimsy nighties which barely covered her already tiny body. Whose idea of a camper van was something to spend a weekend in the country in, and fuck, which they had done the last time Sarah had gone to visit her brother in France.

He sat across from her as she leaned towards him and licked the chocolate parfait provocatively from her spoon, her left foot having abandoned its black stiletto and found itself pressed against his calf.

“So, go on,” She said, “She makes this big drama about the duck and then what does she say?” Scarlett loved to hear derogatory stories featuring Jacob’s wife.

“Don’t forget the bloody cat litter!”

“Oh my God well how fucking romantic!” Scarlett giggled and he joined her, shaking his head at the absurdity of it.

She stared at him, her green eyes piercing.

“When are you going to leave her?”

“I will, honey, you know I will. But it isn’t that simple – we’ve got the house, my job, our parents….they’re coming to bloody dinner on Saturday night….it just needs time.”

“You’ve had time.” She sat back in her chair, one arm folded across her chest, the other holding her glass of red wine. She took a gulp. “And those are stupid excuses.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. I want to be with you Scarlett, you know that. I love you.” He watched her eyes light up at his words. He followed them to the clock on the wall. One twenty five. She shot him a loaded look.

“Want to pop to mine before you head back to the office?”

Should he feel guilty? He mused, driving home that evening. It was October and the nights were getting longer. His headlamps were on, glowing eyes on the dark road. Sarah had pushed him to this. She was different, jaded. She never wanted to do anything fun with him anymore let alone have sex. After she had lost her job all she did was mope about the house all day and spend her time conjuring up wrong doings she could accuse him of when he arrived home, or talking for hours about afore mentioned wrong doings to her girlfriends on the phone. Either that or lounging in bed with the two cats she had impulsively collected from the rescue centre. Jacob hated cats.

He had never signed up for this – wasn’t marriage a joint effort? He had tried at first, bringing her flowers and chocolates, e-mailing her links to jobs she might be interested in, even booking them a holiday in Italy but his efforts had fallen flat and the holiday had been a disaster, with the two of them barely speaking to one another by the end of it.

Scarlett had been a friend for a while, an ex-girlfriend of a colleague who worked in a bar he frequented with his workmates. She had only started out as a sympathetic ear, he had never meant for anything else to happen. Only, Scarlett was sexy, confident and beautiful, plus she held him on a pedestal. She told him she loved him and whether it was true or not, he had not heard those words in a long time.

Jacob pulled the car in to the driveway of the house he shared with his wife. Through the half closed curtain he could see the flicker of the television and a cat’s tail. He sat there for a few minutes before getting out of the car. As he locked the door, his mobile phoned beeped with an incoming text message.

It was Scarlett.

“I love you too honey.”

He deleted it quickly and opened the front door.

“Hi honey! Chinese takeaway delivery!” He called, lightly.

“Have you got that cat litter? I’ve had to use newspaper, it stinks” Sarah replied.



1551 words