Memory of Love

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The vision of Ben’s smiling face faded, bringing Leanne back to the reality of his unconscious form on the bed in front of her.  For so long she’d kept her love for him hidden, hoping that he would one day show an interest in her but, so far, he hadn’t.  Oh, she knew he liked her, but that was as far as it went.  Ben seemed to regard her more like the sister he’d always wanted. “Being an only child is so sad.” he’d told her once.  Leanne understood what he meant, being an only child herself.

 

In some ways she felt privileged.  Ben confided things to her that he might not have done had their relationship been anything other than friendship, but when he chatted to her about his various ladyfriends it cut her to the bone.   She was consumed with jealousy of his desire for them, but couldn’t show it.  Ben dated a lot of women. Some were nice, some not so.  Some were full of themselves.  One or two who had stayed over at Ben’s house had been downright rude to Leanne, treating her like a servant.  All of them, however, were extremely petty, and invariably tall, leggy blondes who were a perfect contrast to Ben’s dark, swarthy features, which further disheartened Leanne who felt her unruly auburn waves and green eyes rather dull.  When she looked at some of the glamorous models and would-be actresses that Ben dated, she knew why he never showed any interest in her.  Physically, she wasn’t his type.

 

She vowed now though, that, his type or not, when, if, he regained consciousness she would tell him how she felt.  Before, she had opted to love him from a distance rather than risk saying something and have him fire her, in which case she would have nothing. At least, being his friend, she could be near him.

 

Having to keep her feelings hidden had taken its toll on her and, as she looked down now at Ben, she knew she couldn’t hide them any longer.  She had to tell him how she felt.  If he rejected her, so be it.  At least he would be alive.  She couldn’t bear the thought that he might die and she’d never told him what she felt for him.

 

“Ben?” she called again, once again searching his face for some flicker of response.  But there was none.

 

She sat with him all day, only leaving the room to go to the bathroom, or to get a drink and a sandwich.

 

She would have stayed the night too, but for the insistence of the hospital staff that she go home and get some sleep.

 

“But what if he comes round?  He should have someone familiar here.” she protested.

 

“He might not come round for some time yet” the nurse told her “and its not going to do you, or him, any good you sitting here worrying yourself into a frazzle.  Go home and get some sleep.  We’ll look after him.  It is what we’re trained for you know.” the nurse smiled kindly.  “Leave us your phone number, and if there’s any need for you to be here, we’ll call you.  Alright?”

 

Leanne nodded, reluctantly.

 

The nurse took down her phone number, and then, with a last look at Ben, Leanne got up and left the room, walking dazedly gown the corridors to the exit.  It was only then that she remembered the police had brought her here.  Her car was still at Ben’s house.

 

She went back inside, found a payphone and called a taxi which arrived twenty minutes later, dropping her off at Ben’s house twenty minutes after that.

 

She went inside and put away the cleaning things she’d abandoned in the middle of the floor that morning.  She picked up his mail, which had arrived after she’d left, and stacked it neatly on the breakfast bar.  Glancing at her watch, she was shocked to find it was almost eleven thirty.  She’d completely lost track of time today.  It was another twenty minute drive to her own flat yet, too.  She didn’t really feel up to the drive and toyed with the idea of staying at Ben’s, but it didn’t feel right somehow, to stay without his permission, and the place seemed so big and empty without him, and so she decided against it and, after checking everything was safe and secure, she carefully locked up and went outside to her car.  The long day’s vigil by Ben’s bedside had taken its toll on her, and her mind was numb with worry, so much so that she couldn’t concentrate at all, and the journey took her an extra fifteen minutes as she crawled along, oblivious to all other traffic.

 

She pulled up outside her flat feeling so drained she could barely drag herself up the stairs to her door.  She let herself in, turning on a table lamp and drawing the blinds.  It was cold, having been empty all day, and Leanne started to shiver.  She lit the gas fire, and put the kettle on for a cup of hot chocolate.  Maybe that would help her relax.  She felt exhausted, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep.  Not until she knew for sure that Ben would be alright.

 

She stood in front of the stove, waiting for the kettle to boil, lost in thought.  The whistling of the kettle brought her back to reality.  She made the cup of chocolate and then pulled an armchair up in front of the fire, perching on the edge of it, her cold hands pressed around the cup as she sipped it, her thoughts full of Ben and the possible implications of his injuries.

 

When she’d finished, she rinsed out the mug and then, turning off the fire and the lamp, went into the bedroom where she undressed and got into bed.

 

She lay, staring into the darkness, wondering at the amount of bad luck that had come Ben’ way in recent times. 

 

She’d read, somewhere, that in a person’s lifetime, they could expect bouts of good luck, happiness and good fortune, to be balanced out by equal amounts of bad luck and heartache, rather like the pendulum of a clock swinging back and forth between good and bad as it ticked away the seconds of ones lifetime.  In Leanne’s opinion, the balance was way out of whack as far as Ben was concerned. She cast her mind back, trying to work out the exact point at which things had started to go wrong for him.

 

For the first year she’d worked for him, things had gone well.  Three weeks after she’d started, he’d gone back to the States, where, from periodic telephone calls he made to enquire how things were at the house, she’d learned that he was quite busy.  He’d guested in several well known t.v. shows and had landed himself a co-starring role in a film. 

 

He returned to the U.K, briefly, three months after leaving, for two weeks, in the middle of April, looking tanned, his hair, which he usually wore collar length, now cut short in preparation for his next role.

 

He was one of the fortunate people who got paid for doing what they loved.    He had told Leanne that all he had ever wanted to do was act, and that he had been fortunate in being in the right place at the right time, landing himself parts which, though small, had been crucial to the production and which had brought him to the attention of the right people.  In ten years he had built himself a solid reputation and, while not a “star”, was rarely out of work, and a household name in some areas of the country.

 

His aim then was to spread himself further.  He’d had one or two jobs in Europe, and one in England, when he’d fallen madly in love with the English countryside, and the ‘reserved’ British people, although the weather he found somewhat hard to cope with after the mild climate in his native California.  Born in San Diego, he now lived full time in Los Angeles, a city he wasn’t overly keen on but, as he pointed out to Leanne, if you wanted to get work, it was the place you had to be.

 

Seeing him again was a physical shock for Leanne, his physical presence far surpassing the memory she had of him.

 

He expressed his satisfaction with the way she was looking after the house, before flying back to the States to begin work on the film he’d told her he was working on, leaving Leanne deflated all over again.

 

In August, he came over again for a month’s vacation after finishing the film he was working on.

 

Leanne barely recognized him when he walked in sporting a full beard and sunglasses.  Ben informed her he’d been playing a serial killer in the movie, taking off the sunglasses and giving her the benefit of his ‘psychopathic’ look.

 

A couple of day after Ben’s return, Leanne had gone out on a date with a man she’d gotten friendly with during several visits to a local nightclub with a girlfriend of hers.

 

Seated with Paul, at the bar of a local wine bar, Leanne had looked up to see Ben, now minus the beard, enter with another man.

 

She watched as they walked to the bar, talking and laughing.   The other man was about Ben’s age, three or four inches shorter than him, with shoulder length dark hair and a thick moustache.  He was dark skinned, possibly of Latin blood.

 

Ben ordered the drinks and as he paid the bill he caught sight of Leanne at the other end of the bar.  He smiled and waved before picking up the drinks, handing his friend’s to him and then leading the way through the crowd towards them.

 

“Hi.” Ben smiled.  “Fancy seeing you here. I’d like you to meet Alejandro Rodriguez.  He’s an old school friend of mine from San Diego.  I bumped into him back home and he told me he was coming over here for a vacation, so I told him to look me up.” He turned to Alejandro now. “This is Leanne Hamilton.  She’s my housekeeper.”

 

Alejandro took Leanne’s hand and bent to kiss it.

 

“Encantado.” he said softly, before straightening up and grinning at her, his teeth gleaming white against his dark skin.

 

Leanne smiled, turning to Paul.

 

“Paul, this is Ben Gallagher.  I look after his house for him.”  Then, turning to Ben, “Ben, Paul Harrison.”

 

“Hi.” Paul smiled at Ben, extending his hand.

 

“Hi.” muttered Ben.  He hesitated briefly before shaking Paul’s hand, an odd expression in his eyes.

 

Paul shook hands with Alejandro and they stood chatting for a few minutes before Ben made an excuse about meeting some other friends and dragged Alejandro off into another room.  Leanne was confused by Ben’s behaviour.  He had been very offhand with Paul.  She had the impression he didn’t like him, but she couldn’t think why.  If she didn’t know better, she’d have said he was jealous, but that couldn’t be.  He’d never shown any interest in her, romantically, at all.  A few months later she would find the same thing happening again when bumping into Ben on another occasion while out for a meal with a different man.

 

Two weeks later, Lennards had finally announced their closure.  Leanne was to lose her job at the end of the month.

 

As soon as she told him, Ben asked her to work for him on a full time basis, offering to increase her salary to match what she’d been earning at Lennards.

 

“But… I worked full time for that salary.” said Leanne.  “It’s an awful lot of money for the few hours I put in for you.”

 

“I’m thinking purely of myself.” said Ben.  “If you go off and find another full time job, you’ll have to give up working for me and I don’t want that.  You do a good job for me.  I trust you.  You’re more than just a cleaner.  I think of you more as a personal assistant.  How many cleaners would type my letters?” He grinned. “And how many secretaries would clean my bath?” he raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“Well, when you put it like that….” Leanne muttered.

 

“That’s settled then.”

 

And so Leanne had begun to work for Ben full time, going to his house for a couple of hours every day to do the cleaning, shopping and any typing, or other jobs, that me might want doing.  She couldn’t believe her luck, getting paid so much money for working only a few hours a week, and for someone as nice as Ben too.

 

In September, Ben went back home to Los Angeles, leaving Leanne feeling deflated.

 

In October, on her 24th birthday, a bunch of red roses arrived at Leanne’s flat.  Several possible senders sprang to mind, but she was shocked, and pleased, when she opened the card to find that they were from Ben.  She had no idea how he’d found out when her birthday was, she didn’t recall telling him.  She was to find out later that he had asked Rowena for her date of birth.

 

On the card was typed ‘To No. 1 Personal Assistant from Boss.” a play on the words of Charlie Chan.  Underneath, in Ben’s handwriting was written “Happy birthday, Ben.”  He must have ordered the flowers and written the card before going home.

 

The gesture lifted her spirits no end.  It was nice to know he’d taken the trouble to find out when her birthday was and organize the flowers.

 

In November, he’d called in for a week en-route to Germany where he was going on business connected with his next role. In the middle of a cold, wet British winter, with everybody miserable and white skinned, Ben looked positively devastating when he arrived, tanned, his hair more it’s normal length now, positively bubbling over with enthusiasm for several projects he had lined up in the coming months.

 

He shrugged off Leanne’s thanks for the flowers saying it was the least he could do for such an efficient housekeeper.  Then, before she’d hardly had time to get used to him being back, he was gone again, on to Germany and then back home to the States for Christmas.

 

Leanne spent that Christmas with her parents, in Birmingham.  She only got to visit them every  month or so since moving to London to go to Art College, six years before, and then staying there to work.

 

She told them about Lennards closing and of her job with Ben.  Her Mother wasn’t too happy about it, looking on ‘housekeeping’ as a glorified term for charring, the sort of job one only did if one was desperate for money.

 

“Don’t be such a snob, Mum.” Leanne told her.  “Anyway, it’s not so much cleaning as being a Personal Assistant.” she said, using Ben’s words.  “I do his letters and so forth when he’s over here, and I get well paid for just a few hours work.  I’m very lucky.” she added with a smile.  “I get the same salary I used to get working full time at Lennards.”

 

Her Mother snorted.  “Just watch that he doesn’t get the idea that such a substantial salary entitles him to more than just having his house cleaned.”

 

“Mother!” Leanne looked shocked.  “Ben’s not like that.”

 

Her Mother raised a sceptical eyebrow.  “Dear, all men are like that, given the opportunity.”

 

“Don’t worry, Mum.”  I can take care of myself.  I’m not that gullible any more.”  Her eyes clouded briefly as she remembered how naïve she’d been about Tony. She had suspected him of seeing someone else some time before she’d found out for sure but had believed his denials, when she’d questioned him about it, wanting to believe his assurances that she was mistaken, that she was the only one for him.  No, the next time she fell in love, if she ever did, she would make certain of their feelings before she committed herself.

 

Ben phoned her, regularly, once a week, during the first three months of the following year.  He told her he had a couple of jobs lined up, but hoped to come back to England some time in  May, as he was hoping to secure a part in a new detective series planned for British television.

 

When he didn’t ring her during the first week of April, Leanne assumed he was working and didn’t have time.  After all, she was only his housekeeper, he didn’t have to report to her.

 

While she was cleaning at his house the following week, the phone rang.  She picked it up, wondering if it might be Ben calling.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Oh, Hi.” a strange voice greeted her, sounding puzzled.  “Is Ben there?”

 

“Not at the moment.” said Leanne.  She didn’t usually tell anyone when he was out of the country.  You could never be too careful, and she didn’t want to be responsible for Ben’s house getting burgled. “Can I take a message?”

 

“Oh.  Has he gone home for the funeral?  I just rang to offer my condolences.”

 

“Funeral?” Leanne echoed.  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.  Who’s speaking, please?”

 

“Brian Matheson.” said the voice.  Leanne recognized him as Ben’s friend in the long running theatre play.

 

“Oh.  Hello Mr. Matheson.  This is Leanne Hamilton.  I’m Ben’s housekeeper.  You said something about a funeral?”

 

“Yeah. I just heard from a friend of mine.  Ben’s folks have been killed, in a car crash.”

 

“I didn’t know.” muttered Leanne, “When?”