Katy's heart sank as she clicked refresh to find no new messages. It had been three weeks now and he still hadn't replied to her; she felt like such a fool. She had been drunk when she posted her dating ad online, she had been single for a year now and was starting to get desperate. Katy was surprised by the amount of responses to her ad but soon realised the majority were from complete and utter weirdos. A few stood out and she enjoyed chatting to them but they soon lost interest. Sam was different. He was intelligent with a good sense of humour and she soon started to look forward to his messages. He had been talking to her for a few weeks when she got the message she'd been hoping for, he wanted to meet her. She was sick with excitement as she replied back, laying out her availability over the next few weeks so fast she made a typo in every word. She read it over and over again before she sent it, waiting a few hours so she didn't look too eager, and then nothing.
Every lunchtime Katy would stroll to the newsagents and scan the headlines in the local paper, she had to know, was he dead, was he injured? She never saw his name and she never saw his face. It had been months now and she still looked. She was starting to get a little obsessed. She was the last one in the office on New Year's Eve, her manager had insisted they didn't close early and one person needed to be there to man the phone until 5pm. The short straw fell on Katy. By 3pm everyone had left and it was just her and security. A funny thought passed though her head, she could use the photocopier to print the picture Sam sent her.
She had just clicked print when Jeff came through, "I'm not keeping the heating on for just the two of us, we're off home, NOW."
"But Wendy says I've got to stay til 5," Katy pleaded.
"Computer off, bag packed, these doors lock in 10 minutes," he was looking serious. "Haven't you got a family to go home to?"
Katy grimaced and started to pack up. Before stuffing the A4 picture of Sam in an envelope she looked at his cold eyes and cheeky smile. He was more handsome in print and his face stayed etched in her memory.
"Bye Jeff," she called back as she walked across the dark car park rummaging through her bag for her keys. "SHIT," she screamed as she turned to run back to the door. All she could see that dark winter evening were the lights on Jeff's car as he pulled out of the top entrance to the car park. She'd not made any proper plans for tonight and now she had left her phone in her desk. Katy solemnly walked over to her car and got in, she slammed it in to reverse and raced out of the car park, "What a way to start the New Year." She was half way home when she hit a pot hole and heard the tyre go. Pulling off slowly in to the next road she paused briefly to look at the street sign, "Not Sea View Road, anywhere but Sea View Road," that was where Sam said he lived; her heart raced. She pulled the car up as near to the end of the road as she could and got out to assess the damage. It wasn't just the tyre, the whole wheel was buckled. Pulling the hood up on her coat against the biting cold she walked to the nearest shop and told them her story of woe.
The nice lady in the shop made Katy a cup of tea and let her sit in the back room while she waited for the recovery truck. She was pleased she didn't have to sit in her car in case she saw Sam, especially with an A4 glossy print of him sat in an envelope on the passenger seat. At 10 past seven when the recovery man called she walked out to her car, it had started to snow so he quickly ushered her in to the warm cab of his truck. A small crowd had started to form around the orange flashing lights as the broken Jag was hauled on to the back. Katy heard a two men chatting quite loudly near to her, she kept taking a peek but they were looking at the car and not her.
"Did you see her?" the tall one slurred. "Stupid blonde thing in heels."
"Nah, not really, just a quick glance, probably an air head rich bitch that hit a kerb," his friend laughed back.
Katy's blood boiled. She hated that car, her Dad had bought it so she couldn't be rude but she'd have been much happier in something less flashy. She stayed hood up looking forward, "What a pair of twats."
"What was that luv?" Katy jumped as she saw the recovery guy climbing in to cab next to her.
"Oh nothing, it's just an awful night for me," she said trying to feign a smile. As he reversed out of the road she got a glimpse of the two men that had been chatting. The one that called her a rich bitch was Sam. He turned back having seen all the action and stubbed his cigarette out on the brass house number. Number 42, she knew where he lived.
Sam didn't spend much time looking at the girl in the recovery truck, he had only got a glimpse of her face under that hood. It had been a tough few months for him and the party he was throwing was hopefully going to be the start of a good year. He had inherited his Father's take-away packing company a few years before and having never paid any attention to polystyrene trays and suchlike he was at a loss as to what to do. He had always trusted his Father's friend and factory manager Ian, so when profits started going down he never expected his right hand man to be stealing from him. It had been a good summer for him, he had been chatting to a few girls which had made it better in his eyes, but when he found out what had been going on with Ian everything else went out the window. He had been working long days and weekends to get himself out of this mess and then finally the week before before Christmas his luck had come in, a huge deal with a multi-national chain of restaurants. New Year's Eve was on him, everybody was invited and he was going to have the best party ever.
Katy walked in to her cold house and immediately went upstairs to change in to her pyjamas. Her broken car was on the drive, she was in the middle of nowhere and she didn't have her phone. She sat on the sofa eating ice cream just staring at his picture. "Why did he just ignore me?" she sobbed. Her mind played it over and over again, it wasn't fair, why was her day so miserable when he was so happy? She switched on her computer, typed his address in to the search bar and watched as the picture of his house showed up. She gazed at the small semi-detached house drawing in everything she could gather about him. The most useful thing she noticed was the orange Focus ST on the drive, the same one she remembered from earlier in the night. She kept searching and soon came across a planning application to remove two trees and build a garage at Sam's address. She clicked on the link and soon his full name came up in big letters, Sam Burrell.
It was gone midnight now and Katy hadn't even noticed. She kept looking for anything she could find, she eventually found him on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn. "Bingo Sam, I've got you," she said with an evil glint in her eye. Soon she knew where he'd gone to school, where he worked and thanks to his slack privacy settings what he was doing most of the time. Katy stood up and got a fresh notebook out of the cupboard, she stuck Sam's picture to the front and in her neatest handwriting wrote down all the facts she'd learnt. She was hurt he seemed so happy in every picture when she had been so lonely. There were so many pictures with friends and especially girls; she thought he must have a wonderful life. She never stopped to consider that he'd been making a conscious effort to seem upbeat, his Mum could never know that there was a chance that the business might fold.
Over the next few weeks she made an effort to drive past his road and keep an eye out for his car. He must have worked later than her because it was always there in the morning and never there on the way home. Sometimes she would make excuses to drive past later on, she liked to know when he was home. If it was late at night and his car wasn't there she would feel pangs of jealousy, imagining him in romantic trysts and not the reality of him sat at his desk trying to think of the next big thing in paper cup design. She called his office once, managing to blag being put through to him. His voice wasn't quite what she was expecting and after he had said hello twice she hung up; she had no idea what to say. One sunny afternoon she decided to stop and walk past his house, it was only 5pm and he wouldn't be back for hours. As she got to the driveway she felt something possess her to walk down. The front door was at the side of the house and the large kitchen window was next to it. As she peered in she heard the voice of an elderly lady behind her, "He's not home yet my dear, out funny hours that boy."
