Stuck in the Middle – Bentley 12

[For back story go here: Story so far at 12 June 2020 and more recents Bentley episodes]

She left. Left without giving him any hope of seeing her again and certainly with no promise of taking him anywhere. Bentley sat in his flat, alone almost, scowling at Covid and wondering if there was a different name he should call his cat to better reflect his current state. But the idea of stroking an animal called Pathetic Waste of Space didn't really appeal.

He stirred his cup of tea and looked out at the rain. There would be no one on the beaches today, no one walking down the prom, flaunting social distancing rules and telling the government they couldn't stop them from building a sandcastle if they wanted to. Mind you that said there were probably a few hardy souls out there who might just want to prove a point, or just had to get out there. Maybe there were a few who had gone out specifically to get wet. Take advantage of the weather just to experience the weather again.

Travel would be disrupted, he thought. That sticky signal would be joined by a couple of areas with dangerously high water levels. Didn't look enough for flash flooding but you never knew until you dipped your front wheels in and proceeded with caution, worrying that there might be a land slip or weaker soil beneath the sleepers. Maybe he should rechristen the cat Disruption or Delayed, but cats were anything but Delayed and rarely looked Disrupted so the name really wouldn't stick.

The phone rang. Bentley picked it up.

"You're looking for me," said Lawrence, straight off at the other end. "I guess I should be flattered and everything, but I got to tell you I'm not. It's a bit annoying. Call your people off."

"What are you up to?” asked Bentley.

"None of your business."

"All that money," pursued Bentley, "where is it from?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Lawrence.

"You can't have it back, you know?"

"Not asking for it," said Lawrence. "Not yet anyway. So don't go spending it."

"Where are you?" Bentley changed tack, "Bournemouth? Brighton? Are you in trouble?"

"You don't need to know," said Lawrence. "I will stay in touch with you but you have to guarantee that money stays with you and goes nowhere else, you got that? Otherwise stuff's going to get tricky."

"What do you mean?" Asked Bentley.

"Nothing. Just call your people off."

He hung up. Bentley sipped some more tea, trying to work out what had just been said, what he thought it might mean and if it might mean more than he thought. Did he, Bentley, really have 'people' now? He was just about drawing a conclusion when the phone rang.

“Have you seen her?” asked Shiela.

“Very nice to hear from you too,” said Bentley, pleasantly. “I trust you’re keeping well, no major colds or worse?”

“Have you seen her?” insisted Shiela.

“Natalie? Yes.”

“And..?”

“And she wouldn’t do what I wanted her to do so there wasn’t much point really, was there?”

Shiela was about to fly off the handle but she controlled herself admirably and stuck to the point of her call.

“Does she know where I live? Does she know I exist – can I meet her?”

“Not right now,” said Bentley, off-hand. “There's a pandemic on and I think she just wasted her bubble on me. Not sure though. She’d probably be able to come and see you too. Maybe next weekend, maybe later than that.”

“Is she going to?” asked Shiela, insistently.

“Doubt it,” said Bentley. “Didn’t discuss it. Doesn’t know where you live. Although I didn’t think she knew where I lived and that didn’t stop her.”

Bentley knew he was being a pain, but he also knew Shiela wouldn’t hang up while he had what amounted to power over her. If she wanted contact with Natalie she’d have to do it on his terms, and that meant putting up with his current horrible manner. He and Natalie had left on amicable but non-committal terms, still wary of making the links between the two of them any more concrete than they already were. He still didn’t have a phone number for her, still didn’t have an address but he wasn’t going to tell Shiela that.

“I’m trying to get down to the coast to see her again – Lawrence too,” said Bentley. “But no one seems to want to help me. I’m trying to do good but all I get is do-gooders warning me of dire consequences.”

“The pandemic will die down in due course and then you’ll be free to go,” noted Shiela.

“That’s not entirely the dire consequences I was thinking about,” said Bentley grimly. “Let’s just say it’s got a bit more complicated than just a search for missing – or not missing – persons.”

Shiela persevered and Bentley let her in on the machinations with his online detectives and protectors. He did not let on about the shoes and the money. Consequently, Shiela left the call more confused than when she entered it, and she too refused to take him any further than the newly open shops (if he really wanted to go there or anywhere at all).

Bentley put the phone down and Covid mewed at him pointedly. 

“Stupid Prat,” he muttered. The name didn’t suit the cat and Bentley was worried it would stick to him instead.