For Your Own Protection(6)

At twenty-eight, she was ten years younger than Matt and full of enthusiasm for life. As well as the niggling paranoia he felt concerning her, the age gap was a reason why Matt had decided the relationship, for all its fun, didn’t have a future. In their case, the generation gap did seem to matter: they had few common reference points.

Matt decided he’d wait until after they had eaten before announcing his intention to end things. It didn’t seem right just to come out with it at the outset. He thought back to Amy’s comment about ‘the Last Supper’. Maybe she was right.

He ordered food at the bar, looking over at Catherine, who was busy on her mobile, most probably scrolling through her Twitter feed. Her obsession with exercise was nearly matched by her obsession with social media, and she was always checking various apps. As if she sensed his gaze, Catherine looked up and smiled, then her head went back down to the screen.

Matt spotted a man sitting off to the left of Catherine, over by the window. The middle-aged guy was staring at her over his pint glass. His gaze only wavered when his eyes slid across to Matt. Holding the look for a couple of seconds, the man seemed to chuckle to himself as he looked away and downed the rest of his pint.

Matt returned to the table and relaxed into conversation, almost forgetting what was about to come. The man who had been leering at Catherine had ordered another pint at the bar and returned to his position, just a few feet away from them but out of earshot. He was still sitting on his own, but when Matt looked across at him, his attention no longer seemed fixed on either of them.

Matt and Catherine finished their lunch of baguettes and salad. Matt’s insides churned as crunch time neared, and he felt the urge to pee. He was at the urinal when the man who had been looking at Catherine from the nearby table entered. Matt looked straight ahead at the white tiles of the wall. They were the bathroom’s only two occupants.

‘So, are you the real lover, or just another sucker?’

Matt took a moment to glance across, not quite wanting to believe that the man was talking to him.

The balding man, who must have been in his early to mid-fifties, was staring straight back at him, a slightly drunken smile on his face.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I said, are you the real lover, or just another sucker?’

Matt zipped up his trousers and stepped back towards the bank of sinks. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘That girl you’re with, is she your girlfriend?’

‘Yes, she is,’ Matt replied, addressing him via the mirror as they both washed their hands. He didn’t particularly want to engage this man in conversation, but to just blank him would have been uncomfortable.

The man smiled again. ‘Your girlfriend. She doesn’t recognise me – looked right at me a few minutes ago, didn’t even register. I’ve put on a little weight, let my beard grow. But I recognise her.’

Matt decided against spending time at the dryer. His hands could air-dry. ‘Sorry, I have to get back . . .’ He reached for the door handle.

‘What name did she choose for you?’ the man said, straightening up as he shook the water on to the floor.

‘Excuse me, I don’t understand . . .’

‘She was Kirsten with me. What’s she with you?’

‘Catherine. Her name’s Catherine.’

The man smiled knowingly. ‘For you, yes. Why don’t you ask her what her real name is?’

‘Why would she lie about her name?’

The guy seemed to take pleasure that Matt had finally taken the bait. ‘Ask her yourself.’

Matt shook his head. ‘I’ve really got to go.’ He didn’t want to listen to any more of these ramblings.

‘She’ll ruin you. Get rid of her now, if it’s not already too late.’

Matt pulled the door open, annoyed by the games. ‘Thanks for your relationship advice.’

‘Just ask her!’ the man shouted as Matt exited. ‘And see the reaction. Then you’ll believe me. But whether you do or you don’t, take it from me – you’re in big trouble.’





CHAPTER FIVE


Catherine looked up from her phone and smiled warmly as Matt returned. She placed the phone on the table, with the screen side down, just as one of the bar staff came across with two coffees.

‘I thought you’d appreciate the caffeine,’ Catherine said, nodding at the large cup of flat white.

Matt rubbed at his eyes, which suddenly felt heavy. ‘Do I look that bad?’

‘Maybe,’ she smiled. ‘A little tired. Stressed?’ She sipped at the drink without taking her eyes off him.

‘Possibly.’

‘What is it? Anything I might be able to help with?’

Matt thought back to what the man in the toilets had said: Why don’t you ask her what her real name is?. . . And see the reaction.

He turned around, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Should he ask her? Had the man been telling the truth? What would he gain out of lying? Maybe it was just a case of mistaken identity, or possibly he was just a bitter drunkard out to cause trouble with an apparently happy couple.

‘You seem really distracted,’ Catherine continued. ‘You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you, but it might help. A problem shared, and all that.’