‘I might have to expand the incident nook!’ Lesley said, her eyes lighting up. ‘Did he give you any clues?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Tell me everything he said.’
Romy could tell Lesley was itching to get out her notebook. She raked through everything she could remember of the conversation she’d had with Kit. She had the feeling that the later it had got and the more they’d had to drink, the more indiscreet Kit had become. Unfortunately, she’d been drinking too, and some of the details were fuzzy, coming back to her in bite-sized snippets.
‘He had a girlfriend in New York and he said that their relationship hadn’t been what it appeared on the surface. It sounded like – almost like a business arrangement. He gave her money and she acted as his girlfriend in public.’
‘And in private?’
‘I don’t know. He mentioned “specialist interests” or “special tastes” or something, and he kept talking about this “lifestyle” he had there, and he said something about being part of a community … It’s a bit hazy,’ she said frowning.
‘Oh my God, I think I know what it is!’ Lesley gasped, pulling herself up straight.
‘What?’
‘BDSM,’ she said, slapping the table for emphasis.
‘Beady what?’
‘B – D – S – M,’ she said, enunciating the letters clearly. ‘It’s like S&M only … with knobs on. Wait, I’ll show you.’ She jumped up and left the room, appearing back moments later carrying a laptop, which she put on the table in front of Romy. ‘It stands for bondage and discipline, domination and submission, and sadism and masochism. I’ve been reading all about it lately thanks to May. She’s devoting a section of her website to it.’
‘You’ve been spending too much time around May and her sex obsession. I’m sure that’s not it.’
‘I bet it is. Kit has a cruel mouth. I can see him with a whip.’
‘He does not have a cruel mouth!’
‘They use the same language as he was using – “lifestyle”, “community” – look.’ She typed BDSM into the search engine and clicked on the first link, opening a Wikipedia entry.
Romy scanned the introductory paragraph and scrolled down through the page, skim-reading fragments and looking at the photographs of men and women in collars and bondage gear, strapped to various kinds of equipment.
‘I bet Kit’s girlfriend in New York was really his submissive,’ Lesley said as Romy clicked on more links.
The photographs were all similar – whips, chains, collars and leather gear – and the articles all referred to the ‘lifestyle’ and the ‘BDSM community’. They even talked about being in the closet and coming out, in the same way that gay people did.
‘You know, maybe the reason he doesn’t want to have a relationship with you is because he thinks you wouldn’t be into it,’ Lesley said.
‘Well, maybe he’d be right.’
‘Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’
‘Have you … tried it?’ Romy asked, her eyes widening in shock.
‘Me? Christ, no! You know me, I’m all talk. If someone tried to whip me, I wouldn’t even have time to cut his balls off,I’d be legging it so fast. I like it in bed under a nice warm duvet – preferably with the lights out. I’m a terrible disappointment to May. She makes me feel like a right duffer in the sex department. She keeps telling me I should experiment more.’
‘She’s too bloody adventurous for her own good. I’m
terrified of going up there one day and finding the pair of them dead and naked, knotted around each other after having a simultaneous heart attack.’
‘Well, at least they’d go out with a bang!’ Lesley laughed.
‘And now she wants to set up this swing.’
‘A swing?’
‘Yeah, a sex swing. She has to drill holes in the ceiling for it, so she had to ask me about it. I wish she wasn’t such a conscientious tenant and would just put the thing up without having to discuss it with me.’
‘Well, if you want to find out about BDSM, she’s your woman.’
‘Eww, I don’t think I want to chat to my OAP tenant about … this!’ Romy said, waving at the screen.
‘What about me? I’m going to have to listen to her going on about it for weeks while I’m building her website – and God knows what else.’
‘Well, maybe you’ll learn something – become more adventurous,’ Romy grinned.
‘I don’t think I could do this S&M stuff, do you?’ Lesley asked, nodding to the laptop screen, which was frozen on a photograph of a young woman, gagged and strapped to a cross, wearing what looked like a leather swimsuit. ‘You’d feel like such an eejit.’
‘Unless you were the dominant one. That wouldn’t be so bad.’ Romy scrolled down again, stopping on an image of a leather-clad young woman brandishing a whip and leading a man in a gimp mask on a dog leash. ‘Those boots are great,’ she said.
‘Might be nice to have a boyfriend you could put on a leash,’ Lesley said dreamily. ‘At least you’d always know where he was.’
‘But I don’t think I could respect a man who’d want me to do that to him.’
‘I don’t think you need worry. I can’t see Kit being a submissive.’
‘I can’t see him being into this stuff at all. You’ve just got
kinky sex on the brain because you’ve been spending too much time with May.’
‘Well, it’d probably be quite easy to find out – easier than finding Luke’s father anyway.’
‘How?’
‘I could put a tail on him for a start—’
‘You do know you’re not really a detective, right?’ ‘Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to conduct surveillance.
It wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘I remember.’ Lesley had once done a series of stakeouts on her little sister’s boyfriend and outed him as a cheater. ‘But I don’t think we should be snooping into Kit’s life anyway. He’s entitled to have his secrets. Even if he is into this, there’s no harm in it – as long as he’s not hurting anyone.’
‘Anyone who doesn’t want to be hurt,’ Lesley added, and they both laughed.
They were interrupted by Luke’s cries on the baby monitor as he woke up, and Romy went to get him. She chatted to Lesley some more while she fed and changed Luke, and packed up to go.
‘Don’t forget to ask Kit about David’s party,’ Lesley said at the door.
As she drove away, Romy felt more confused than ever. It had been good to talk things over with Lesley, but she was no nearer making a decision – and now her head was full of images of Kit in all sorts of S&M scenarios, wielding whips and floggers on women in strange leather outfits and tying them up to bizarre contraptions.
‘What are we going to do?’ she whispered to Luke. ‘What the hell are we going to do?’
Chapter Eight
On Sunday, Romy arrived at her mother’s house for lunch, having made up her mind to tell her the truth. It was the only way. The alternative was way too complicated. She would just say it and get it over with, and it might be horrible for a few minutes, but then they would get past it and move on. In a week or two, everything would be back to normal – only better because she would be free of the awful lying. She wouldn’t have to feel guilty every time she spoke to her mother.
After her father’s death, Romy’s mother had sold the large family home in Ranelagh and moved to a little cottage near the sea in Sandymount. Romy got out of the taxi, carrying Luke in his car seat, wrapped up against the cold in a thick winter jacket and layers of blankets. When she had paid the driver and the taxi had pulled away, she stood for a moment surveying the house critically, noticing that the railings needed painting and a section of gutter was sagging. She would come over during the week and do some jobs on the house, she decided as she walked up the short path to the door. The garden, however, was neat and well maintained, the little flowerbed planted with winter shrubs, the dark soil free
of weeds and the grass neatly clipped. The rain earlier had brought out the smell of clean, freshly turned earth. Danny must have done it recently, Romy thought. Their mother was oblivious to such things, and if it weren’t for her and Danny, she would have let the house fall into disrepair without even noticing.
‘Hello, pet,’ her mother greeted her, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have bothered,’ she said as Romy handed her a bottle of wine, ‘but thanks.’
Romy took off her coat and hung it up on a peg in the hallway, then unstrapped Luke from his car seat and lifted him out, following her mother into the kitchen. The house was deliciously warm and toasty after the cold outside.
When she had put the bottle of wine on the worktop, Marian held her arms out for Luke and Romy handed him to her.
‘Hello, you,’ Marian beamed at him, cuddling him to her. Watching her mother stroking Luke’s face and playing with his grasping fingers, Romy wondered if she should say her piece now and get it over with. When she saw her mother looking at Luke with such joy and adoration, she knew nothing would make her love him less – and nothing would make her love Romy less either. She suddenly felt very sure of that. On the other hand, maybe when she was holding Luke wouldn’t be the best time to deliver her bombshell – what if her mother dropped him in shock? Romy opened her mouth to speak, but Marian beat her to it.
‘Why don’t you go and see if you can cheer your Uncle Danny up,’ she cooed to Luke, handing him over to Romy. ‘Oh, Danny and Paul are already here?’
‘Just Danny,’ Marian said in a low voice, nodding towards the living room. She was no longer smiling. ‘He’s been dumped,’ she mouthed to Romy, her expression grim.
‘What?’ Romy breathed. ‘I don’t believe it! When did this happen?’
‘Just last night.’
‘Oh my God!’ Romy frowned uncomprehendingly.
‘I know. I’m glad you got a taxi. We’re going to need a lot of this today,’ she said, tapping the wine bottle.
‘Jesus!’ Romy was so floored by this news she couldn’t think of anything coherent to say.
‘Go on,’ Marian said, nodding towards the door. ‘I’ll just finish lunch. It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.’
Romy carried Luke into the living room, where she found Danny slumped on the sofa in front of the fire, watching TV. She glanced at the screen. It was an old movie with Tony Randall, Rock Hudson and Doris Day. ‘Hi,’ she said softly. Her breath caught in her throat as her brother looked up at her. He looked pale and washed out, and had obviously been crying, his face puffy and his eyelids swollen.
‘Hi,’ he said, mustering a smile. He pointed the remote control at the TV and muted the sound.
‘You look like you need a go of the magic baby,’ she said, holding Luke out to him.
Danny took him, a smile softening his features as he settled Luke on his lap.
Romy flopped onto the sofa beside them. ‘Mum told me – about you and Paul,’ she said, putting an arm around his shoulders and hugging him to her. ‘You okay?’
‘I’ve been better,’ he shrugged, his eyes welling up. He cleared his throat. ‘The magic baby helps,’ he said, bouncing Luke on his knee.
‘He’s a cure for all known ills.’ Romy smiled fondly, stroking Luke’s downy hair. ‘I just hope he doesn’t grow up to be a bastard like – are we saying his name?’
‘Which one? Tool, dickhead, arsehole? He has many names.’
‘Like Satan. What happened anyway? I mean, he was here just last week. You were planning your holiday. You seemed fine.’ She couldn’t get her head around it. Last week, they had chatted and laughed and drunk wine together. She had given Paul advice on his rising damp, he had tossed Luke in the air and made him laugh. Last week, Paul had been one of the family. How could he vanish from their lives just like that? How could that all get cancelled out so suddenly? It didn’t make sense.
‘He just said he didn’t love me anymore. But I think he’s seeing someone else.’ Danny’s voice was hoarse and shaky, and Romy felt her eyes well up. That made the least sense of all. How could anyone stop loving her beautiful brother? He was the easiest person in the world to love.
‘Bastard!’ she said. ‘Bloody men, eh?’
‘Bloody men,’ Danny said miserably.
‘Well, he doesn’t deserve you. You’re better off without him. And other clichés,’ she said, smiling ruefully. ‘Sorry I can’t come up with anything more original, but it’s very short notice.’
‘That’s okay. The oldies are the best.’
‘Speaking of which, what’s the movie?’ she asked, nodding towards the TV as she rested her head on Danny’s shoulder. Doris Day was now engaged in a very heated exchange with Rock Hudson. Even with the sound off, you could tell Doris was fuming.
‘I don’t know. Some Doris Day movie where she tricks Rock Hudson into marrying her with a cunning plan.’
‘Oh, Pillow Talk! I love that movie.’
‘How the hell do you tell them apart? I just described the plot of every Doris Day film ever made.’
‘Hey, not fair to Doris.’
‘Really?’ Danny gave her a sceptical look.
‘No. There’s That Touch of Mink, for instance.’
‘What happens in that one?’
‘She tricks Cary Grant into marrying her – with her most elaborate cunning plan ever.’
‘Ah, I take it all back.’
‘And Calamity Jane. She didn’t even have a cunning plan to get someone to marry her.’
‘Well, she had a gun. She didn’t need one.’
‘True.’ Romy sighed. ‘God, I wish I had a gun,’ she said, thinking of Paul.
‘Lunch is ready,’ Marian said, popping her head around the door. Danny switched off the TV and they all trooped into the kitchen. Romy took Luke from Danny and strapped him into the swing chair that her mother kept for him, while Danny poured wine. She positioned the chair so that Luke could see everyone and set it swinging gently.
‘This looks fantastic, Mum,’ Romy said as she sat down. Marian was a superb cook when she made an effort, which she hadn’t that often since their father had died, but she still always pushed the boat out for family Sunday lunch.
‘There’s an extra lamb shank, if anyone wants more,’ Marian said with a wary glance at Danny as she began passing around dishes, and Romy guessed that she had been expecting Paul to join them as usual.
‘Well, here’s to us,’ Marian said when they had all helped themselves, and they clinked glasses.
Romy groaned in appreciation as she dug into meltingly tender lamb shanks with gravy, creamy mashed potato and roast vegetables. ‘This is amazing, Mum.’
‘Mmm,’ Danny grunted in agreement, his mouth full.
‘So how was the Hallowe’en party the other night?’ Marian asked. ‘I never really heard about it properly. Who was there?’
Romy and her mother chatted about who had been at her party, what her old school friends were doing now, which of them had got married or had children. Danny was subdued, his head bent over his plate, and Romy and her mother exchanged worried glances when he wasn’t looking. They all fell silent eventually, the silence only broken by Luke’s gurgles and the jangle of the rattle he clutched in his fist.
‘You know, I never liked Paul,’ Marian piped up eventually.
Romy looked at her mother in astonishment. She had adored Paul. He had come to Sunday lunch with them almost every week for the past two years and she had doted on him. She had even started making hints about a wedding from the moment civil partnerships had become legal in Ireland. ‘Mum, you did like him. We all did.’
‘Well, okay, maybe I was taken in by his charm. But there was something sly about him. I never thought he was good enough for you,’ she said to Danny.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Danny said simply, seemingly touched by her show of support.
‘It’s just the truth. I didn’t think he appreciated you enough. And he was charming on the surfa
ce, but when you got down to it, he was always a bit aloof. It was hard to get to know him really.’
‘Yeah, I found that out,’ Danny said with a bitter laugh.
‘He was good-looking,’ Marian continued, ‘but you could tell he was going to be paunchy and bald in middle age. He was already starting to lose his hair.’
‘And his waistline,’ Romy added.
‘He pronounced “tissue” as “tiss-ew”,’ Marian said.
‘And he had that terrible unibrow,’ Romy said, getting a small smile from Danny.
‘Yes,’ Marian said, ‘and you know what they say – “Beware of those whose eyebrows meet.”’
‘He had shit taste in music,’ Danny said quietly.
‘And he was scared of babies,’ Romy said. ‘He tried to cover it up by being all hearty, but he always tensed up around Luke.’
‘He left skid marks in the loo.’
‘Danny, we’re eating!’ Marian protested, but she looked pleased.
‘He kept calling Luke, “little man”.’ Romy shuddered.
‘He never helped out when he came over for lunch.’
‘He had back hair.’
‘And ear hair.’
‘And nose hair.’
‘Shit! He was the missing link!’ Danny said, and now he was laughing.
Soon they were all happily trying to outdo each other in tearing Paul to shreds. By the time Marian brought in the banoffee pie for dessert, the tension had dissipated and it was a normal, convivial Sunday lunch.
‘Anyway, I haven’t asked you about Kit,’ Marian said to Romy as she sat down after handing around plates. ‘Bloody Paul has put everything else out of my head. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him the other day.’
Danny looked up. ‘Kit Masterson?’
‘Yes. Didn’t Romy tell you?’
‘No. Tell me what?’ He looked at Romy questioningly.
‘Just that he’s back,’ Romy said quickly, shooting her mother a warning look. Marian gave her a slight nod, indicating that she had taken the hint, but she looked puzzled. ‘He’s come back here to live. He called over the other night – on Hallowe’en.’
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