The Girl In His Eyes: a dark psychological drama

by Jennie Ensor

  The sensations of the moment began to take over – the noise of her surroundings and the warm rush of alcohol through her body. Her thoughts stopped, her memories of the hours just gone began to blur, her fear subsided. It was all falling away now, sloughing off like sunburnt skin.

  ‘Can I buy you another drink?’

  It was the guy from the bar. He was handsome, in a gaunt sort of way. He wore a silver ear stud in the shape of a guitar. He had a warm smile.

  She told him a double Jack Daniels and Coke. When he came back, he asked if she always came to bars on her own.

  ‘Not usually. Do you?’

  He smiled. ‘Not usually. But my friends haven’t showed – I think I’ve got the wrong place, or the wrong time. What’s your name?’

  ‘Laura.’

  ‘I’m Dylan. You didn’t look as if you were having much fun, that’s why I came over.’

  He smiled again, pulling hair from his eyes.

  ‘No, I don’t like it here much. I just came to … to wind down, I suppose. It’s been a long evening.’

  ‘What are you winding down from?’

  She decided to tell him the truth. She was tired of pretending to be other than she was, and what did it matter, anyway?

  ‘I work in a gentlemen’s club.’

  He looked puzzled.

  ‘You know, lap dancing. Like Spearmint Rhino.’

  His eyebrows raised. ‘Do you enjoy it?’

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to do it.’

  ‘Why do you?’

  ‘I need the money to pay my rent. I was out of work for a while.’

  ‘Everyone needs money, don’t they?’ He looked into her eyes. ‘You’re lucky you’re so attractive.’

  ‘I guess if I was fat and ugly, I’d have to do something else.’ She smiled, flirtatiously. He was a bit older than she’d first thought – probably twenty-six or twenty-seven.

  ‘I’m sure you do very well. What were you doing before?’

  ‘Not much. A job here, a job there. I was fired from my last one. I’ve got a degree in history but I haven’t found a good use for it yet. What do you do?’

  ‘I’m a biochemist. I’ve started doing research into the causes of dementia. My dad had it. I’d like to help find a cure, some day.’

  ‘It must be wonderful, to do something you believe in. I’ve never had that. I’ve no idea what I want to do with my life.’

  His face stayed serious. ‘Don’t leave it until it’s too late.’

  She finished the drink. It had done the trick. The bad thoughts had left. Her mind was slowing, getting fuzzier. She wanted to lie down in a quiet place and close her eyes …

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘It’s been a busy night. And I’ve had too much to drink, on an empty stomach.’ She smiled brightly. The drink had loosened her tongue. She wanted to tell him everything. ‘I’m not drunk though, not yet.’

  ‘Do you want to be?’

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It makes me feel better.’

  ‘Being drunk isn’t good – I know from experience. Don’t you have someone to talk to?’

  ‘Not really, no one I can talk to about everything. I don’t have many close friends.’

  ‘That’s a pity. Everyone needs someone to talk to.’

  ‘There’s only Rachel, and I don’t think she would understand. I’ve told her about the club, but not what it’s really like. I don’t think I should tell her too much.’

  He came closer. Gently, he placed his arm around her. ‘You’re in a bad way, aren’t you?’

  ‘I suppose.’ She looked straight at him. ‘I came here because I didn’t want to go home by myself. But I’ll be OK now.’

  ‘How are you getting home?’

  ‘Taxi. I’ll get one outside.’

  She tried to remember his name. Yes, Dylan, like the poet.

  ‘It was good talking to you, Dylan,’ she said. ‘I’d better go now.’

  He moved away from her. She moved away from the pillar. The room swayed.

  ‘Do you want me to come home with you? I won’t mind if you say no.’

  ‘Yes, OK. Come home with me.’

  She hadn’t done this for a long time – meeting a stranger in a bar and going with him. But tonight … She wanted it suddenly, so badly. Skin touching skin, the heat of bodies moving together. She could kiss him, easily. There was something about this guy, the way he looked at her. He wasn’t going to judge her – or use her.

  He held her close as she walked, his arm around her waist. She nearly fell on a kerb, and laughed it off. Her key got stuck in the lock and he helped her. For a moment, she wondered if this was safe, and why she was inviting someone she hardly knew into her flat.

  She made coffee then took him into her room. They sat on her bed with the heater on, a red silk scarf thrown over the lamp so its light wouldn’t show up the damp marks on the walls and the dust on the table.

  ‘Sorry it’s such a dump.’

  ‘Don’t worry. My place isn’t much better.’

  He was only saying that to be polite – or to make her feel better. He really was a nice guy, far nicer than the ones she normally met.

  ‘You’re really out of it, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

  He looked into her eyes. ‘It’s none of my business, but do you … do you ever sleep with the guys in this place where you work?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t do that. I just dance for them, that’s enough.’

  He nodded, sipped his coffee. She asked if he had a girlfriend.

  ‘I was seeing someone. It ended last year.’

  ‘Relationships always go wrong for me, sooner or later.’ Laura laughed. ‘It’s my fault, I always choose guys that don’t care about me or the other way around. It’s pretty stupid.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Whatever we do, there has to be a reason.’

  ‘What do you think the reason is, in my case, then?’

  ‘You don’t think you’re worth much, so you treat yourself as if you’re not.’

  ‘I see.’ A dart of pain went through her, as if he’d jabbed her with a needle.

  ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  ‘No, it’s OK. You’re probably right.’

  She leaned forward and kissed his lips, softly. He looked surprised. Surprised but pleased.

  ‘Look, Laura, are you sure you want to do this? I could leave, if you like. Or just stay here and sleep.’

  ‘I’m sure. Aren’t you?’

  She knew she was more than slightly drunk. But not too drunk to know what she wanted.

  He kissed her, took off her blouse and jeans, and caressed her until she was aroused, then he undressed. He kissed her again and held the top of her arms tightly as he fucked her.

  It was intense, too intense. She seemed to be passing into another world, and she wasn’t sure if she could come back to this one. From somewhere far away, she heard his shower of curses as he came. A shudder grew at her core, and she let go. He stroked her head on his chest.

  For a while she was elated. As that passed, something else floated in, some long-ago forgotten joy. Then everything got mixed up and she couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad. A river of tears began to rise inside her, prickling her eyeballs and constricting her throat.

  A small choking sound burst out of her like a misplaced hiccup. She pushed her head into the pillow to stifle the sobs.

  Next morning, he was still in bed beside her, sleeping. She showered then ran down to the local shop and bought croissants and fruit for a late breakfast.

  ‘Why are you called Dylan? Are you Welsh?’

  He sat at the table, watching her, as she waited by the grill for the croissants to brown.

  ‘My dad was.’ A note of pride entered his voice. ‘He liked Dylan Thomas. His poems.’

  She thought of her own father, the man she couldn’t talk about.

  ‘Do you want marmalade?’r />
  ‘No thanks – jam, if you’ve got it?’

  She joined him at the table. They talked almost continually as they ate. She felt as if they’d been together for weeks, not one night.

  ‘You’ve really cheered me up, Dylan,’ she said, after their third cup of coffee.

  ‘You don’t look so pale now. I was worried you might collapse, after last night.’

  ‘Work takes its toll, I guess.’

  ‘How often do you have to work?’

  ‘Three times a week. But it’s good money, that’s why I do it. I’ve already paid off the rent I owe, pretty much. I just need a bit more to tide me over till I find a real job.’

  She went over to the sink with their dirty plates.

  ‘I like you, Laura.’ He came up to her. ‘You’ve got a lot going for you.’ She waited for the rest. She could guess what he was going to say: she was doing damage to herself, she needed to change pretty quickly or she’d end up on a cold slab. ‘You should stop working there.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, turning to him. ‘I will, soon.’

  It wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear, she knew that as soon as she’d said it. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t just said yes, why she hadn’t promised to stop there and then.

  He said he would call the next day, but he didn’t.

  The disappointment went away after a few days. It wasn’t that she’d expected him to call her – she was a lap dancer now, which didn’t make her the sort of girl that a stable, intelligent, good-looking guy with a career would want to hang out with. But it would have been good to see him again.

  17

  Laura

  22 April 2011

  ‘He said if I didn’t behave, he’d pull down my knickers and give me a good smack on the bottom,’ Rachel said with a giggle, puckering her small mouth. ‘I said “OK then, go ahead”.’

  Laura swallowed another hunk of bread and cheese. She hadn’t expected this meeting with her friend, but it was a relief to have this meandering, light-hearted conversation on a warm April afternoon.

  They were sitting on a rug in Richmond Park. Below, the hillside tumbled into fields and clusters of distant buildings. Further out, church spires punctuated a whitish haze. Food cluttered the rug, mostly from Rachel’s local deli. Her friend had called at 10 o’clock that morning and suggested they have a picnic somewhere since it was Good Friday and the weather was fine. Despite feeling tired from the previous night, she’d agreed straight away – they hadn’t met up in over a month.

  ‘What are you doing next week? Do you want to go and see a film?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Rachel helped herself to another olive. Her hair, fastened behind her head with a slide, gleamed in the sun. ‘Jake keeps texting that he’s got to see me. And I’ve got dinner with a friend on Tuesday, and a rehearsal on Wednesday.’ Rachel smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I could do Thursday evening, if you’re free?’

  ‘I’m working at the club on Thursday. Can we make it Friday?’

  A couple of weeks ago, she’d admitted to Rachel that she was working in a lap dancing club. Rachel was the only person she’d told, apart from Dylan. She’d told her brother and her mother that she was serving drinks in a nightclub.

  ‘I thought you were going to give that up and look for another job?’

  ‘I am, but I haven’t found anything yet.’

  ‘What happened with that job you applied for the other week?’

  ‘I didn’t even get an interview.’

  ‘Have you got any interviews coming up?’

  ‘There’s one next week – an admin assistant job at an insurance company.’

  ‘You can’t get anything better than that?’

  ‘There’s not a lot of work out there, Rachel. I can’t just waltz into my ideal job.’

  ‘Which is what?’

  ‘I don’t know. I wish I did. I’m not like you. You’re lucky, you always knew you wanted to work with kids.’

  Her friend was in the middle of a work placement at a school for children with autism, part of her Masters in Educational Psychology. She had impressed them so much that they had virtually promised her a full-time position upon completion of her course.

  Rachel chewed a stick of celery, her face thoughtful. A breeze stirred the grass, lifting a paper plate off the rug. A dog barked as it chased a small boy who was struggling to steer his kite.

  ‘You’re managing to pay the rent OK now?’

  ‘Yes, thank goodness. I’m getting some good tips at the club.’

  ‘What happens at this place? You’ve hardly said anything about it.’

  Her friend stopped eating and looked at her intently. What could she say? She knew it would be better not to tell Rachel in too much detail what went on at Rascals, or her friend would be even more displeased than she was already. But she didn’t want to lie about it either.

  ‘We dance – up on stage and one-on-one.’ She hesitated. She’d better not mention striptease, or the pole. That would definitely give the wrong impression.

  ‘One-on-one?’

  ‘They sit and you do a dance for them. You wiggle your hips, stick out your boobs and try to look sexy. They’re not allowed to touch.’

  ‘You have to take all your clothes off?’

  ‘Mostly it’s just down to a G-string.’

  Rachel stared. ‘My God, Laura. I didn’t imagine you doing something like that.’

  ‘Well, that’s what you have to do in these places. That’s what they expect.’

  She looked down at her hands. It had been a mistake to tell the truth. Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut?

  ‘Don’t you mind men looking at your body?’

  ‘I don’t like it, of course I don’t. It was really hard, at first.’

  ‘At first? So, you’re used to it now, are you?’

  ‘I had to get used to it.’ Panic flurried inside her. This was going all wrong. ‘It’s not that bad, Rachel. You’re imagining it to be worse than it is.’

  ‘You don’t have to keep on working there, do you?’

  ‘I’m not going to be there forever. It’s only until I get something better.’

  Rachel sighed and stared into the distance. ‘I know you can’t see it, Laura,’ she said slowly. ‘But you seem to be doing your best to fuck up your entire life.’

  Laura picked up a lump of cheese and put it into her mouth. It tasted like nothing at all.

  They sat in silence. Eventually, Rachel looked up.

  ‘Are you still having those bad dreams?’

  ‘Yeah, the same one keeps coming back.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Someone’s chasing me. I know I have to get away from him, or he’ll kill me.’

  She stopped. Rachel was looking at her strangely.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Your father really messed with your head, didn’t he? I think that’s why you’re still working at this place. You need these guys to salivate over you, just like he did. Don’t you see? You’re just repeating everything that happened before.’

  ‘Rachel, will you stop trying to psychoanalyse me? I can do without it, thank you very much.’

  She bit her lip. Her reply had escaped without warning. She shouldn’t have retaliated like that.

  ‘If that’s what you want, fine. But I’m not going to stick around to watch you going downhill. You’re worth more than that, Laura. If you keep on like this, I dread to think where you’ll end up.’

  Rachel started clearing away the uneaten food and putting containers into bags. It wasn’t yet 4pm and they still had half a bottle of wine left.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I have some things to do at home.’

  ‘Can’t we talk about this?’ Her gut felt distinctly odd, as if a hundred fingers were inside it, poking and pulling the tubes, twisting them into knots. ‘You’re my friend, aren’t you? Are you going to walk out on me just because I work in a lap dancing
club? That’s crazy.’

  Rachel put more things into plastic bags and hurriedly stuffed them into her rucksack. She spoke without looking at her.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’m hurting you, Laura. I know we’ve been good friends … But you’ve changed. I can’t handle what you’re doing. I can’t cope with it happening again.’

  ‘You’re not making sense, Rachel. With what happening again?’

  ‘I’ve had it before, with my sister.’

  ‘The one in New York?’

  ‘She’s not in New York anymore, she lives in Nottingham. She used to work for Morgan Stanley. She was doing really well, then she lost her job. It was four years ago. She got depressed, started drinking too much. Then her boyfriend left and she got even more depressed. She stopped talking to me, to Mum, to everyone. We found out where she was staying, tried to help her, gave her the numbers of the local alcohol recovery service and so forth. It didn’t make any difference.’

  ‘What’s she doing now?’

  Rachel took a few seconds to reply.

  ‘When I last saw her, she was staying in a hostel. A place where homeless women go. Most of them are alcoholics or drug addicts. It’s hard to believe, my sister living somewhere like that.’ Rachel’s eyes glistened. ‘If you want to end up in the gutter, Laura, go ahead. It can happen to anyone, even you. But don’t expect me to hang around watching while you do it.’

  A chill went through her. Her best friend, no, her only friend, was walking out on her.

  ‘I know you’re right, my father fucked me up. I need to change my life, I know I do. But please, don’t go.’ She took a deep breath, tried to stop the press of tears behind her eyes. ‘I don’t know if I can get through this alone.’

  ‘What do you mean? You might top yourself?’

  ‘No, I just meant—’

  ‘You did try once, didn’t you?’ A sharp note entered Rachel’s voice. ‘You told me once you tried to jump off a roof or something. At school.’

  ‘They thought I was, that was all.’

  ‘So, what happened? Do you want to tell me about it?’

  Laura cleared her throat. She might as well tell the story – there was nothing to lose.