by Louise Voss
There was a crackly, inaudible attempt at an announcement and I could feel myself getting hot, tense. Nobody else seemed to have even noticed that we’d stopped. I had an image of that scene in The Rats, passengers traipsing through the tunnels, savaged in the dark by razor-teethed rodents.
The woman opposite gave me a look. She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment then said, ‘You okay?’ She was American.
‘I’m fine.’
‘It’s just that you made this noise …’
I felt my cheeks heat up.
I put my head down, concentrated on the litter. The train lurched into motion and I got off at the next stop. I waited till the next train came along.
I eventually emerged from Leicester Square station. I needed something to read and immediately thought of the second-hand bookshops on Charing Cross Road. I trawled around the shops, scanning the tables, picking up yellowed paperbacks, sniffing them and putting them back again. I like second-hand bookshops for their cheapness, but there’s something revolting about them too. The thought of all those greasy fingers handling the pages, all that dead skin gathering in the folds. Examining one book, I found a squashed spider between the pages. Perhaps someone had used it as a bookmark.
I passed a pleasant couple of hours wandering in and out of shops, until I found myself in a pokey bookshop back near the tube. If I don’t find anything here, I decided, I will spend my money on alcohol. Which was when something caught my eye.
It was lying on a table. The title was Tara Lies Awake. The author, Siobhan McGowan. My teacher. I tingled. It felt like a sacred moment, and I lifted the book with slow reverence, stroking the hardback cover like it was a holy artefact. Siobhan’s book. I flipped open the cover and the scrawled pencil mark told me it was only £2. I would have paid a lot more for it. Without any hesitation, I took it up to the counter and practically threw my money at the old bloke behind the till.
‘Hey, your change…’ he called as I pushed the door open.
Out in the street, my change now safely in my pocket, I looked at the cover. There was a naked woman on it – artfully done, of course. And there, on the inner flap of the dustjacket, was Siobhan herself. She was a few years younger, with a broad smile on her face, but…well, I’ve got the book lying open in front of me now. She doesn’t look as good in the photo as she does in real life. It looks a bit posed, fake. When she stood up in front of us in the classroom she seemed real. I mean, of course, she was real, but…oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I suppose what I mean is that although Siobhan looks good in the picture, she could be any woman. But the woman who stood in front of us in the classroom last week seemed special.
I stopped at the off-licence on the way home and bought a bottle of wine, then shut myself in my room with the book and stayed there all evening.
God, the dreams I had after reading Tara Lies Awake. It’s so erotic. So…sensual. Or is it sensuous? I’ll have to look it up. Don’t want to say the wrong thing when I discuss it with the author, do I? Whatever, it’s damn sexy. And beautifully written. Sexy and beautiful – and surely a book is a reflection of its author? I saw a hint of it last week in the classroom, but only a hint. I expect she has to hide it in front of most people. It can be dangerous being that passionate. You have to keep it in check, wear masks. But I feel like I’ve learned so much about her from reading the book, and I can’t wait for her to show more of herself.
Siobhan’s novel is about this woman called Tara who is a virgin until she’s 21. She’s always been scared of men and relationships, and then she meets this guy called Luke. He’s married, and older than her. And they fuck. Christ, do they fuck. I’ve been around the world. I’ve been to Bangkok where girls are supposed to know every trick in the Kama Sutra. But I bet those Thai girls wouldn’t have heard of some of the things Tara and Luke get up to in Tara Lies Awake. The book is written from Tara’s perspective after the affair ended. She’s lying in bed, thinking about all the stuff they did, touching herself. She ended the relationship because of his wife, but she still craves him. And on the last page, there’s a knock at the door.
And that’s how it ends.
Oh Siobhan, you seem so calm, so placid on the surface. But underneath…I know what’s inside you.
Oh Siobhan.
I want to be inside you.
Imagine how thrilled she’ll be when I turn up with her book tonight. No – wait, though, I won’t take her book along with me. That’s too obvious, and one of the others might ask to borrow it and I won’t be able to say no. I don’t want to let the book out of my clutches. I have uses for it. So what can I do to make Siobhan happy?
Of course. It’s obvious…
Chapter 3
Siobhan
Well. That was quite an evening.
I got to college early – I wanted to be the first one there, rather than drifting in with the other students as I did last week. I want to project more authority. I dressed up a bit more this week, too, I’m not sure why. Maybe because I feel a little more confident now I know that they aren’t the world’s most intimidating bunch. So I put on my high boots and my fishnet tights. Decided against the denim mini-skirt – too slapperish, with the fishnets – but went for my knee length black cord skirt, and a polo neck. It must really be true, what they say about attractiveness being all about confidence. I felt pretty good.
As I walked past the main office area, Betty the receptionist called out to me: ‘Ms. McGowan? Someone left this for you.’
She reached over the desk and handed me an envelope; wrapped in a pink ribbon, no less. I mean, who puts a ribbon round an envelope? I thanked her, and she gave me a knowing look over the top of her half-moon specs. I didn’t want to open it then and there, so I went into the disabled toilet and locked the door, before ripping open the envelope. I’d thought it would be a card, so I was surprised to pull out a single, typed sheet of A4, in one of those fancy fonts meant to look like handwriting.
I was even more surprised at the heading: ‘Bookjungle.com: ’ it said. ‘This reader, Aparkinson, has awarded this product *. Five stars. It was a review of TLA.
‘Sublime, erotic masterpiece,’ was the sub-heading. I quickly scanned the page, superlatives jumping out all over the place at me. It was a rave review, so glowing it was almost neon. In fact – and I never thought I’d say this – it was almost too glowing. Pleased as I was, it was embarrassing, too. Like that creep at the gym that time, who kept going on about how sexy my calves were. Nice to have the compliment, but a bit much really.
I couldn’t even think who Aparkinson was, until I saw the note at the end:
‘Dear Siobhan, I read your book. In case you don’t look at Bookjungle.’ (As if! All authors look at Bookjungle.) ‘I thought you might appreciate my posting. I really loved it. All the very best, see you in class. Alex.’
Alex – the boy rebel. How weird! I wouldn’t have put him down for a pink-ribbon gushy kind of guy. But I had wondered if he fancied me.
He might not, though. Perhaps he just genuinely loved the book. It’s very sweet of him.
I wasn’t quite sure how to react. I mean, what was I supposed to say? Thanks?
I re-read the review more slowly. I can’t say I wasn’t chuffed – it’s been years since anyone posted a review of TLA, not since that bastard who proclaimed it ‘Unreadable – the worst book I ever read,’ and gave it no stars.
It was, admittedly, lovely to see such a nice one, and to know it’s on the internet for all to see. I kind of wish he hadn’t put his name, though, so the other students, when they eventually – and inevitably – look it up, don’t discount it because they know that he knows me.
Can’t resist transcribing a few choice quotes:
‘The central character, Tara, is incandescent, shining on the page, the kind of person we all dream of meeting in real life but so seldom do; we cannot help but fall for her.’
Aah - sweet!
‘The prose is rich and sweet as marz
ipan, but never cloying, never too much. Instead, we are happy to gorge ourselves on these delicious words, to get drunk on sugar, to be giddy like E-numbered-up children.’
Hmm, that’s a bit OTT.
‘Sex scenes are notoriously difficult to get right, but McGowan seduces the reader in the same way the handsome Luke seduces the lovely Tara; a verdant eroticism moistens these pages, as sexy as hell, as blissful as heaven.’
Yeah, baby! Love it.
Anyway, I slid the review back into the envelope and put it, plus ribbon (Biggles will enjoy playing with it) back into my bag, and exited the toilet, glad that there wasn’t a queue of cross people in wheelchairs waiting outside.
When I got into the classroom, I expected to see Alex, waiting cockily for my reaction, but the room was empty except for Poor Brian. It was funny, because when he clocked my boots and the tights, his eyes opened so wide you’d think I was naked.
‘H-h-h-hello,’ he said, gulping like a cartoon character who’s just swallowed a pikestaff.
We chatted for a bit – I asked him a bit about his fantasy book, but I have to admit that it sounded as if he was talking in a foreign language, with all the place names and weird aliens and so on. I told him that I’d loved The Blind Assassin, and that had a sci-fi story within it, but he hadn’t even heard of Margaret Atwood!
Then he glanced towards the door, and for a moment I thought he was going to lunge at me; he had this rather worryingly expectant look in his eyes. Or else do a runner. But to my astonishment, he produced a copy of TLA! That’s doubled my annual sales figures then. I wonder if they’ve all gone out and bought it? I hope so. But I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do with it – he sort of waved it at me.
‘Would you like me to sign it?’ I asked, and he blushed gratefully, nodding. I duly inscribed it, and the poor chap looked as if he was about to die with gratitude – but it was a lot more straightforward than Alex’s big gesture.
The others all arrived together, just as I was handing back the book to Brian. I smiled briefly at Alex, but didn’t make real eye contact with him. I felt a bit … flustered, I suppose. Like he somehow had one over on me now – although of course that’s silly. I don’t know what it was, but as soon as I saw him, I felt uneasy. When I looked at him, skinny and cockier than he seemed last week, the review and the pink ribbon seemed a bit inappropriate. I casually leaned over and pushed it right down to the bottom of my handbag, so it was hidden. I suddenly wanted him to be unsure as to whether or not I’d even received it, and I decided not to mention it at all, unless he asked me outright. Perhaps I’ll thank him, next week, without making a big deal out of it.
At the end of the class, I could see Alex beginning to loiter behind the others as they filed out, chatting. Only Kathy was left, so I wandered over to her desk and told her how much I’d enjoyed the piece she’d read out earlier.
‘I’m so glad you like it!’ she said, her face lighting up. She looks really pretty when she smiles, under that harsh jagged haircut. I subtly edged my shoulders round until my back was to Alex, and he wasn’t in my line of vision at all – although I was somehow still very aware of him there, lurking.
‘Actually,’ Kathy said after a minute chatting about the task, ‘I was wondering if I could have a word?’
Phew, I thought – a reason to ask Alex to leave. But when I turned back around, he was marching out of the classroom, without a farewell.
I turned back, and Kathy was standing there, beaming – with a copy of TLA in her hands! I couldn’t believe it, and started to laugh.
‘I’ll be able to retire on the royalties soon,’ I said. ‘It’s brilliant – you’re all buying it! I knew there was a reason I should take up teaching.’
Kathy laughed too, and good-naturedly handed me a biro. ‘Loved it,’ she said. ‘I really couldn’t put it down.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, blushing. Her praise somehow felt more valid than Alex’s overblown words and Poor Brian’s stammered compliments, and I felt foolish for overreacting, even in my own head, about Alex’s review. At least I hadn’t made a fool of myself by mentioning it in any way. And having three of them comment on it definitely diluted the impact.
I wonder if there’s any chance that Kathy fancies me too? She certainly seems to glow when she talks to me. But perhaps I’m just being arrogant.
I left the college feeling far more cheerful than of late, all the evening’s words of flattery echoing around my head. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to get another book deal after all. I must have some talent, to provoke such a reaction. I’d just forgotten, that’s all.
Either that, or I’ve got three new admirers! Can’t be bad, however you look at it.
Chapter 4
Alex
Wednesday
I spent all afternoon working on my online review of Tara Lies Awake. I submitted it to the site and printed it out, kissing the paper before sealing it in an envelope. I wrote my home number on the printout (haven’t been able to afford to get a new mobile since mine was nicked from my pocket the other week in the pub, and of course it wasn’t bloody insured) and wrapped the envelope with ribbon I’d found in Simon’s room. Nat’s always making cards and doing fancy stuff with parcels, so I expect the ribbon belonged to her. I was sure she wouldn’t mind me borrowing a bit.
On the way to class, I kept imagining how impressed Siobhan would be when she read my review. The more I thought about it the more excited I got. I found myself walking really fast, marching in time with my heartbeat.
I wasn’t sure exactly how to give my review to Siobhan. Ideally, I’d have liked her to stumble across it on the website, but I couldn’t be sure enough that she would see it – authors apparently always check their own Bookjungle rankings, but since the book had been out for so many years, I couldn’t believe that she checked all that regularly. I didn’t want to leave the printout on her desk in case someone else picked it up. And if I handed it to her in class the others might wonder if there was something going on between us. But it had nothing to do with any of them – this was a private matter between Siobhan and me.
Entering the college, I saw the receptionist and decided she was the best person to leave the envelope with, mainly because I couldn’t give a flying one what she thought of me.
‘Has Siobhan McGowan come in yet?’ I asked.
‘I don’t think so, love.’
‘Could you pass this to her when she does?’
She took it and set it aside.
‘You won’t forget, will you? It’s very important.’
She looked at me, then at the pink ribbon wrapped around the envelope and raised a well-plucked eyebrow. ‘No, love, I won’t forget.’
‘Thank you.’
After that, I needed the loo. I must have been in there longer than I thought because when I reached the classroom, everyone, including Siobhan, was already there.
I opened the door and saw Siobhan look me up and down. I swear she seemed impressed. And kind of hungry. Like I was a Mars Bar and she was Marianne Faithfull. She must have read my review already and – well, it looked like it had had the most positive effect I could have hoped for. Could it be that praise makes her horny? Makes her want the person praising her?
Is she that similar to me?
To my delight, I saw a hint of pink poking out of her bag – the envelope I put the card and review in. So the receptionist didn’t let me down. And when I saw what Siobhan wearing…wow! The boots, below what looked like they could be stockings on her long, sexy legs, and more make up than last time - though not too much, nothing tarty or cheap. She looked sensational.
She asked me to sit down, and I could feel her eyes on me as I walked to my chair. I had this rushing sensation in my stomach and chest, that feeling you get when something very exciting is about to happen. I was trying not to stare at Siobhan too hard, trying to be cool, trying to stay calm. And then she turned all the lights out.
It was a shock at first, suddenly being in pitch da
rkness with a group of near-strangers. But, very quickly, I became accustomed to it. I even forgot the others were there, and it felt like it was just me and Siobhan. Brian wasn’t scratching like a mangy hamster, Kathy wasn’t sending me hate rays for being a man, Barbara wasn’t snoring. It was just me and Siobhan, Siobhan and me, and it was so dark with the blackout blinds down that I couldn’t even see my own hands, and nobody else could see how aroused I was as I listened to Siobhan’s deliciously husky voice.
She asked us to think of a character, but the only character I could think of was her, and then there were two of us in the story in my head, her and me. I couldn’t manage the bit about standing in my childhood bedroom. All I could picture was my bedroom now, rucked-up sheets beneath two entwined bodies.
I felt like she was caressing me with her words, reaching across the room to me and stroking my hair, my face, touching my eyelids and running her hand down the back of my neck, then around to the front and – oh God – into my lap. I could smell her – her skin and perfume and hair – and when the lights came on I nearly fell out of my chair in my desperate attempt to cross my legs.
Have to admit, though, the mood was spoiled a bit by the sight of the drool on Grandma’s hairy chin. But when my eyes adjusted to the brightness I couldn’t stop myself gazing at Siobhan. She caught my eye then quickly looked away, shy, sweet, coquettish.
When I had to write down what I’d visualised, I had to make something up. I couldn’t be honest, could I? This journal is the only place where I can be fully honest.
The class ended and the others started to file out. Brian stuttered something to her as he passed and she smiled at him, sympathetically. I hung back, waiting for all the others to leave. I wanted to talk to Siobhan about her book and my review. I wanted to give her the chance to say how pleased she was. But bloody Kathy wasn’t leaving. She stayed in her seat, scribbling something, and Siobhan came over and started talking to her. It didn’t seem that Kathy would be leaving too quickly. Realising there was no way I could hang around without seeming like a weirdo, I slunk out.
