The One a Month Man by Michael Litchfield Read Free Book Online

horror of what Tina had apparently become hit him like a sledgehammer to the head.’
    ‘It could have just been sales talk,’ I said, as a salve.
    ‘But it wasn’t,’ she retorted, assertively, having restored her composure. ‘A rendezvous was made for 8 p.m. that same evening. The woman wanted to know how long Ronnie wanted to hire “Lolita” for. Again Ronnie knew nothing about this sort of assignation.’
    ‘So what did he say?’
    ‘Something silly like “How long is normal?” She told Ronnie it depended on what he had in mind. If he planned to take his escort out to dinner and then return to the hotel, he was looking at a charge for at least six hours; something like a running taximeter . So he said, “OK, I’ll take six hours.” He was very explicit to me later about the actual dialogue. He had to pay in advance; I forget how much it was, but it was a bundle. Another thing the woman said was that if he wanted to pay for
extras
, he’d have to negotiate directly with “Lolita”. “What the two of you get up to is none of my business.” After taking the money and as Ronnie was leaving, she said, “Have fun. I’m confident you’ll be back for a second helping after tonight.” Ronnie literally ran from the building and almost vomited in the street.’
    ‘Did he call you, then?’
    ‘No, not until later. He walked and walked, in a trance. Journey’s end was approaching. He was on a high, yet he’d also never felt so low. Can you identify with that?’
    ‘I can,’ I said, reaching out to her mentally, my thoughts turning to my own daughter. I wondered how I’d cope if I was ever following in Ronnie’s footsteps, God forbid!
    ‘I don’t know what time he got back to the hotel, but he was in his room for eight, trembling.’
    ‘I take it she turned up? So father and daughter were, in fact, reunited, albeit bizarrely?’
    ‘Tina was a few minutes early. She’d always been a punctilious girl. She knocked confidently. Ronnie threw open the door. And there they both stood, father and daughter, rooted to the spot; her face raddled, wearing the briefest mini-skirt Ronnie had ever seen and teetering on heels more like stilts than stilettos.’
    ‘She must have been stunned,’ I said, stating the obvious, just for something to say.
    ‘She was speechless, her mouth cemented in a rictus, bloodless face, Goth-like appearance. Our ghost. “Tina!” Ronnie exclaimed, thrusting out his arms, moving to embrace her.’
    After all those years of searching, he was suddenly within inches of holding her again. The Prodigal Daughter could be taken home. Yet, because of what I’d already been told, I knew the outcome must have been very different.
    ‘“No!” she yelled, pulling away from Ronnie and fleeing.’
    ‘Did your husband give chase?’
    ‘Of course, but she was much too quick and nimble for him. She kicked off her high heels and bolted along the corridor, down the stairs, three at a time, out of the front door and into the dusk – and gone. No reunion. Since Tina’s disappearance, Ronnie’s health had deteriorated drastically, so he was badly out of breath by the time he reached the street. Not a sign of her. A bit like Cinderella, she dropped her footwear – two stilettos instead of a slipper. Ronnie was frantic; distraught. To have come so close and to allow her to slip through his hands – literally ! He didn’t know what to do. He thought of ringing theagency, but decided that wasn’t such a smart idea. That’s when he called me to see what I could come up with.’
    ‘And did you have a suggestion?’
    ‘Yes. I said, “Get on a train; come home.” He said, “I can’t. We were almost touching; close enough to see right into each other’s eyes. After all this time, I can’t just walk away from it and abandon her.” I wasn’t suggesting that he should, but it was obvious to me that he wasn’t going to find her again simply by street-walking. He hadn’t a clue where to