'Ok chick, take the rest of the week off,' said Carol. 'Everything's in hand here. The boss is very impressed with the last couple of weeks' worth of your work, so he'll be fine with it, don't worry. I'll spin something.'
"Thanks Carol. I owe you...ok...will do. Bye Carol, and thanks." Seema popped her 'phone back in her pocket. She drew her arm across her forehead and looked about the room. She had finished cleaning the kitchen, wiping all the surfaces until they shone like new, and she had just finished hovering. Simran was busy cleaning her shower and toilet, double scrubbing to remove any trace of her uncle Mo'. A large black bin-bag full of Simran's entire collection of underwear, as well as her bedclothes, lay slumped on the floor next to the apartment door.
It was mid-morning, and they had been at it for nearly two hours. They had risen early, washed quickly and left Seema's apartment to catch an early-bird bus towards Checkley's. There, they picked up Simran's little white ford standing forlorn in the car park, and driven to her flat. Later, Simran had called her line manager at work and profusely apologised for her absence, explaining the situation in lurid detail. Seema was thankful that everything seemed to be ok. Simran's line manager must another 'Carol', thought Seema.
Seema's face was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration and she already felt the need to have a shower and wash her hair. But, they had certainly made a good job of it. Seema felt both pleased and disappointed; Simran wanted her flat to be spick and span because she wanted to be able to use it without thinking of her uncle. This meant the prospect of having Simran living with her was still a distant one; for now. Simran had broached the subject of cohabitation several times, but Seema realised that she was being cautious, not wanting to rush things.
"Which is good. It means she's taking the prospect seriously. Patience, Seema," Seema whispered to herself. She turned towards the sounds of industrious and over-zealous scrubbing. "Babe?" she called.
The scrubbing stopped. There was a loud sniff. "Yeah?" Simran called.
"I'm just going to take the bin-bag down to the bins, ok?"
"Ok. Thanks sexy!" Simran called. The vigorous scrubbing started again.
Seema smiled, hoisted the bin bag over her shoulder and made her way down the five flights of stairs and around to the rear entrance of the block of flats. The big bins were lined up against the wall either side of the rear door. The first thing Seema spotted as she pushed and propped the door open was Simran's little white Ford in the rear car park which served all the tenants in Simran's block and the three others. Parked right next to it was a black Mercedes, polished to a shine with gleaming silver alloys sitting within low profile tyres.
Seema would have thought nothing of it; many of the tenants in these blocks were city business men and women occupying well paid positions, and consequently many of the vehicles that were parked here were big and sleek. But, the car park was empty, save for the Ford and the Mercedes. Why was it parked right next to Simran's car, Seema wondered.
As she peered at the sleek motor, she saw movement behind the tinted glass windscreen. Suddenly, the engine was fired, reverse gear engaged and the driver floored the accelerator. The car shot backwards in a screeching wide arc before gunning forwards towards the car park exit, leaving behind an acrid cloud of burnt-rubber smoke. And then, the area was silent and empty, save for the little white Ford faithfully waiting.
Seema swallowed, recalling Jake's ominous words on the answer machine. She quickly dumped the plastic bag in a bin, shut the door and bounded back up the stairs. The door to Simran's flat was open.
"Sim!" Seema called as she lunged through the door. The loud and rhythmic scrub-scrub of the brush came from the shower room. It stopped.
"Seem?" Simran popped her head around the shower room door before standing up. "You ok?"
Relief coursed through Seema. She immediately felt a little silly. "Yeah...yeah," she said, a lopsided grin on her face. "I've done the bags."
"Ok..." Simran smiled as she came towards Seema. "Thanks babe. I've pretty much finished in here. I think I've scrubbed the enamel off." She chuckled and stuck her bottom lip out to blow an errant wave of hair from her cheek. In the end, she had to flick at it. Her face flushed a deep red. "What?" she asked bashfully.
Seema could stare at Simran all day long. Despite the gloss of perspiration on her flushed face, despite her hastily tied hair with a pony-tail sitting at a jaunty angle and despite the strong whiff of disinfectant from her washing-up gloves, to Seema she was just perfect.
"You know...if I was a guy, right now I'd probably say something incredibly romantic about 'taking you roughly over the kitchen sink'!"
Simran laughed. "What, even though I stink!"
Seema nodded and chuckled. She turned serious. "Sim...there was a car parked right next to yours...it disappeared pretty quickly when I went out..."
"Honey, you're still spooked by what Jake said? Don't be," Simran said as she pulled her rubber gloves off. She walked through to the kitchen and started washing her hands. "What can uncle Mo' do? Really, what can he do?"
"I don't know honey, but~"
"But nothing Seem." Simran dried her hands and walked over to Seema. She draped her arms around Seema's shoulders and kissed her lips. "Don't worry love."
Seema reached behind herself and poked around in the back pocket of her jeans. Her fingers brushed against a folded piece of paper.
"Do these numbers mean anything to you?" she asked as she withdrew the crumpled and warm piece of paper. She unfolded it and gave it to Simran.
Simran uncoiled her arms from around Seema's shoulders. She peered at the numbers, mouthing them as she read. She frowned. "Nope. What are they?"
Seema took the paper, folded it and slipped it back in her pocket. "Dunno." She was about to change the subject when Simran sighed and gave her a knowing look.
"Seem...is this some sort of cryptic crap from Jake?" she asked, her head to one side. Seema glanced sideways. "Seem, stop fretting, please. Why are you taking Jake seriously? And this disc he's sent...if he's sent anything...what will be on that? Probably nothing...an album by K T bloody Tunstall?"
Seema frowned. Deja vu was a strange feeling at the best of times, but...
"Seem," Simran sighed. "I think after what happened yesterday...Uncle Mo' will stay well clear...and I think he'll actually pay Mum and Dad back, you know. I think my Dad's right. I should let him deal with it. He's obviously got something on Mo'. So ... stop worrying honey. Please."
Simran pecked Seema on the lips and turned towards her bedroom, vacuum cleaner in hand. Seema watched as she disappeared into her little boudoir. She frowned and sighed. Maybe Sim's right, she thought, and walked to the kitchen to fill a glass with water for some much needed fluid replenishment.
#