Finding Annie

Finding Annie1

Chapter 12

Tom Beeman swore loudly as he rifled through his desk. He couldn't believe she'd been through there too; he loved Annie dearly, but sometimes she could be a real bitch. He plopped down in his chair and sighed loudly, rubbing his hand through his two day old growth of beard. His hands shook as he reached for the phone, pressing number 2 – his wife Annie's mobile number. It took a while to connect; increasing his irritation 10 fold.3

“Hey Bee man, What's up?” She answered finally. Tom groaned loudly down the receiver.4

“Did you have to take all of them Annie?” He said finally; Annie giggled.5

“You were the one who told me this was the week you wanted to quit smoking Bee man! You finding it hard?” Tom nodded to himself.6

“No, I just finished a fantastic story and I was going to smoke a cigar to congratulate myself and you took my victory cigar's out of my desk.” Annie smothered another giggle.7

“Tom, last time I looked Cigar's were just as bad as cigarette's. Why don't you have a victory sandwich or a victory biscuit?” Tom felt his mouth crease into a smile.8

“Not macho enough! When Hannibal finished the job on A-team; did he reach for a nice chicken salad sandwich and say “I love it when a plan comes together!” while stuffing his face? No, he didn't – he smoked a cigar.” He sighed unhappily. Annie echoed his sigh.9

“Ahh Honey, if it means that much to you – I stashed one in the kitchen. In the leprechaun on top of the fridge. But just think how great you'll feel if you didn't smoke it. I bet you can almost breathe in now without coughing up a lung.” Tom laughed in spite of himself.10

“I love you.” He said simply, reaching for a piece of spearmint chewing gum and curling it into his mouth.11

“So, how was the meeting?” He said finally clicking onto the email icon on his desktop.12

“It was strange actually. There's an atmosphere hanging over things at the moment here. The CEO is pissed off because accounting got their numbers wrong and they were all brought into a meeting and reprimanded...are you listening to me?” Annie said finally. Tom nodded, opening up his Dilbert of the day.13

“Ah-huh, so who got fired?” Tom said, trying to suppress a chuckle that was erupting in his throat.14

“Are you reading Dilbert while I'm trying to have a conversation?” Annie said angrily. Tom flushed guiltily.15

“Maybe....” He said in a cute voice. Annie giggled.16

“Ok, well I got to go anyway Honey. Don't forget to feed Ludwig. I'll give you a call later when my train is getting in and you can pick me up. Ooo and remember, I'm proud that you didn't smoke the cigar.” Tom groaned loudly.17

“Way to guilt trip a man Annie, that was low – real low.” Annie blew a kiss down the phone.18

“I love you.” She said simply. Tom blew one back.19

“I love you too Baby.” He hung up the phone. He was surprised to discover that the craving for nicotine was waning.20

Tom and Annie had met at Oxford University. Annie was American, from Pennsylvania – Tom was English from Liverpool. The moment they met, he knew he was going to marry her. She was acerbic, witty and driven. He was dishevelled, brilliant and a slacker. Annie was going to run the world, Tom was going to change it through his writing. It was a match made in hell, and yet they'd been married for 10 blissful years. Two years earlier they'd decided to move out of London and find a small cottage where Tom could write and where Annie could unwind after a hard day in the City. Tom became the househusband and Annie the major breadwinner – and yet the dynamic worked for them. 21

Tom opened the fridge, reaching for the tin of catfood. Ludwig, their marmalade cat, circled his legs, mewing at the top of his lungs. Tom sniffed the contents of the tin and almost vomited on the spot.22

“Are you sure you really want to eat this stuff Wiggy?” He asked the cat. Ludwig looked up at him with huge green eyes.23

“Meow” He said finally. Tom shrugged emptying the contents into his bowl.24

“Well....if you insist. For the record can I just say I was against it.” Tom placed the bowl on the floor and Ludwig pounced on it ravenous. Tom chuckled, rinsing the tin and placing it in the recycling bin. 25

For the next half hour he busied himself, filling the dishwasher and preparing a Lasagne for tea. He looked at the huge station clock on the kitchen wall and swore. Where had the day gone? It was almost time to pick Annie up from the station. He frowned. Had the phone rung? He went over to the phone on the wall and picked it up. There was a dialling tone. It was almost six o'clock – Annie usually phoned around five thirty when she was getting on the tube to her connecting station. He punched out the numbers of Annie's mobile. Listening to the voice tell him “We're unable to connect your call, please try later or send a text.” Damn her phone was off. He picked up his jacket and car keys anyway heading for the door. Maybe her battery died and she couldn't ring him? Fighting the growing sense of unease – Tom climbed inside his car and drove off towards the station.26

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *27

Tom sat in the car in the station carpark, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The London train had come and gone; Annie was nearly two hours late. This wasn't like her, especially on a Friday when she was usually the first off the train and into his arms. The weekends were their special time – Tom didn't write and Annie turned off her mobile. They forgot about work from 7pm Friday until 7am Monday – instead just enjoying spending time with each other. That, Annie was fond of saying, was the secret to a long and happy marriage. Well ten years couldn't be wrong. 28

Tom picked up his mobile again and rang Annie's mobile for the hundredth time. The same message played – her phone was switched off, please send a text. 29

“Fuck!” Tom said slamming his hand so hard on the steering wheel his hand had pins and needles. This was so not like Annie, she was always so organised, so thoughtful. He turned on the radio – tuning in for the news on Radio Four.30

“London has been gripped by fear after a series of explosions rocked the London Underground earlier this evening. Police are not ruling out terrorist involvement. We go now to our reporter Brian Holden, live from Central London.” Tom felt frozen with fear as he turned up the volume.31

“Thank you David, Well the information we have at the moment in sketchy at best. Information just released from the Police advises that two underground trains packed with commuters were apparently wracked by a series of huge explosions. There are no reports of casualties at this time, we believe Police are still clearing the injured from the two trains. This is the second terrorist attack to hit Britain in the past two years – last year London was targeted on several of it's transport links resulting in the deaths of many people. Police are hoping that this is not a repeat of that atrocious crime. Back to you David.” The first tear rolled silently down Tom's cheek. He stared blankly into the dark carpark.32

“Thank you Brian, any relatives concerned about loved ones who may have been involved in tonights explosions, please call the special hotline which has been set up by the police on 0800 7879000. And now in other news.....” Tom had already tapped in the number before the newsreader had time to finish his sentence. The line was engaged; probably jammed with other people anxious about their loved-ones. Tom pressed redial and waited. It connected, a female voice answering.33

“British Transport Police Helpline, How can I help?” The woman asked. Tom cleared his throat.34

“My wife was due home two hours ago, she works in The City. It's possibly she may have been involved in the.....erm...attack.” Tom finally managed to say.35

“Can I take your name please?” The woman said gently.36

“Tom, Tom Beeman – my wife's name is Annie Beeman. She's thirty-three years old, with red hair and green eyes. She's five foot six inches tall and quite slender.” The woman tapped away.37

“Alright, and what was your wife wearing?” Tom screwed his eyes up, trying to remember. She had bent over him to drop a kiss on his cheek when she was getting ready, the scent of her perfume had filled his nostrils. Her red blouse had fallen open giving his a glimpse of her creamy flesh. MyQueen, was the perfume she wore – heavy and sweet and heady.38

“She was wearing a black skirt, red blouse and black jacket with stockings and high heels. She was carrying a black leather laptop bag.” The woman tapped away.39

“Do you have a contact number for yourself and your wife?” Tom gave her the numbers.40

“Alright Mr Beeman we will pass the information along to the Police and let you know as soon as we know anything. To be honest Sir, with the trains and now the buses taken off in London, your wife would be finding it very hard to get home to you. The mobile networks in London and surrounding areas are jammed with concerned people, which maybe why you've not been able to get hold of her. I'm sure she'll call you as soon as she can.” Tom felt brightened at the woman's words.41

“Thank you so much.” He put down the phone. He felt happy tears filling his eyes. Yes, that was it – she was just stranded in London with no way home. She was probably getting wined and dined at one of the posh hotels in the city centre; melting her plastic at the same time. He started the car, turning out of the station. He had better get home quickly, he thought, and wait for her phone call. 42

He drove home, feeling sick with anticipation. He wouldn't be happy until she was back home with him.