by Grace Lowrie
‘I know. I think even he realises that, but it’s how he feels.’
Ash shook his head again. ‘So how can I help him when he won’t let me?’
‘You could start by listening to him – really listening to him – instead of writing him off, bullying him and making him feel like crap all the time.’
‘I don’t bully him.’
‘No? What would you call threatening to take his home away?’
Ash left soon after that. I can’t say I was surprised, I’d given him a fairly good grilling and plenty to think about. I hoped that once he’d calmed down he would consider things from Bay’s point of view.
Settling in the back of a diner with my laptop, and driven by a hunch, I Googled the lead singer of Bleeding Trees. Her name was Vesper Page; she was both talented and beautiful and only twenty-six when she died. Her stage presence was distinctive – frilly white feminine dresses teamed with black boots, studded leather accessories and heavy eye make-up. There was no doubt in my mind that she was the girl from Bay’s paintings. From an image search of the band I also recognised their bass guitarist; a younger-looking Tom, and another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Despite only having produced one album before Vesper’s death brought their story to a premature end, the band had a loyal following.
I could easily see why Bay had fallen for Vesper, but knowing him as well as I did, I refused to believe he could be responsible for her death. That he might blame himself for it anyway, would not surprise me. As I packed up my laptop and caught a cab back to Bay, the one question that really bothered me was this:
Was he still in love with her?
Chapter Fifty-four
While she did her hair and make-up in a mirror next door in preparation for her punters, I chewed nicotine gum and searched for a pair of shoes. Why I was bothering to try and give up fags was a mystery – it wouldn’t be enough to stop her fucking leaving me when the time came.
Aside from the nights when Cally worked her shifts, we’d barely left my flat in four weeks. One night I took her to see a show, and we’d been out for dinner a couple of times, but mainly we stayed in the flat, wrapped up in each other. Sometimes she watched while I worked out, lifted weights and attacked a punch bag to the brink of collapse. Then she’d lick the sweat from my skin, teasing me with her tongue until I came in her mouth. Other times I would go down on her while she tried to sleep, eat, read, or watch a movie. And I had her everywhere I could; in the shower, across the kitchen counter, up against the windows for all to see; always wanting more. We had just three more nights left together, and two of those she’d be working – it was making me sick to the point where I’d lost weight, too. The anticipation and our near-obsessive desperation was slowly destroying us.
Cally reappeared with mascaraed-eyelashes and crimson lips. ‘I’ll walk you to the station.’
‘You don’t have to do that—’
‘I’m walking you to the station. Give me your bag, I’ll carry it.’
Stepping closer she tipped her face up and pressed a tender kiss to my lips, her eyes locked on mine and instantly soothing the fury inside me. I sighed and she handed me her bag.
‘Why’s this so heavy, what have you got in here, your laptop? Why are you taking it to work?’
‘You never know when inspiration might strike.’
I’d still not read any of Cally’s writing, she forbade it, and her laptop was password-protected. ‘You just don’t trust me not to hack into it while you’re out.’
She smiled up at me without replying as we stepped into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind us. Raising my fist I pressed it to where the imprint on the back wall, neatly fitted my knuckles. ‘This dent is going to haunt me when you’re gone. I wanted to fuck you so badly that day…’
‘Why did you hold back?’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe deep down I knew it would change me forever.’
Reaching out, Cally pressed the emergency stop button and the lift lurched to a halt. ‘Do it now,’ she said, her eyes bright.
I didn’t need asking twice. As she positioned herself against the back wall of the lift with her legs spread I let her bag slide to the floor, spat out my gum, unbuttoned my fly and took my cock in my hand. I was ready for her – I was always ready for her – and I could tell she was ready for me, too. It was clear from the way her eyes burned as they followed the movement of my hand; it was written in the flush of her skin, the parting of her lips, the increase in her breathing and the tightening of her nipples.
Lifting her skirt I took my sweet time removing her knickers; I liked hearing her beg, and the devil in me wanted her to be late for work. Grazing her thighs with my fingertips I kissed her thoroughly; teasing her and making her whimper. What we did to one another – the effect we had on each other – was punishment in its most pleasurable form. As I pushed my fingers up between her legs she moaned just like that first time, right here in this lift; suspended between our shared world on the twelfth floor and the real world outside. She was so stubborn that night – hell, she was still just as stubborn now.
As she lifted one long, limber leg high up over my shoulder in open invitation, I calmly withdrew my fingers and sucked them – patiently savouring the delicious taste of her while she implored me with her eyes.
‘Now, Bay, please.’
My cock jerked at her words and I couldn’t refuse. She guided me to her entrance and without hesitation I slammed into her, pinning her to the wall of the lift with one, deep, feral thrust. Her eyes rolled back as she groaned and shuddered with satisfaction, her body clenching around me as if welcoming me home. Grinding into her I circled my hips to be certain she experienced every inch.
‘You feel that?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m going to fuck you hard, Cally; you’re going to feel me here inside you while you dance for them.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Yes.’
The lift shook as I took her; ruthlessly drove her to a screaming climax, and filled her with my seed.
‘So stubborn,’ I muttered into her hair afterwards, holding her in my arms and listening to her heartbeat thump against mine. We didn’t speak as I walked her the few short metres to the tube station. What was there to say? I didn’t want her to go to the club and she knew it. At least this time she wasn’t angry that I’d made her late.
‘Try not to drink too much,’ she said, as I kissed her goodbye at the barrier. But I didn’t reply; I could make no more promises. Helplessly I looked on as an escalator carried her away out of sight.
Emerging back onto the street I chucked my pack of nicotine gum into the nearest bin. I lit up a fag and headed back in the other direction to start my pub crawl.
‘Bay!’
Glancing around I spotted my brother and wished I hadn’t. ‘Fuck off, Ash.’
‘Look I’m sorry, OK? I’m here to apologise – I never should’ve sent that letter – I should have talked to you about it instead.’
‘Damn right.’ I kept walking but he kept pace with me.
‘You have to admit – you’re not the easiest person to talk to.’
‘Just fuck off, I’m not in the mood for this.’
‘Please, Bay, let me buy you a pint, several pints if you like, you’re my only brother after all…’ It was starting to rain and the apparent sincerity in his voice piqued my interest.
‘Whatever.’
We were on our second pint in The Blackfriar when my curiosity finally won out.
‘So why are you back, don’t you live in the states anymore?’
‘I’ve been overseeing a large acquisition – I won’t bore you with the details – but it has been worth the visit. I fly home in the morning.’ Setting down his glass he shifted against the bar to face me. It was standing room only on Friday nights, especially wet ones. ‘I saw your paintings.’
This was the last thing I’d expected him to say, and I suddenly found I couldn’t look at him.
‘They’re really good, Bay �
� more than good – I mean I’m obviously not an expert, but even I can see how talented you are. I met your agent and he said the critics were loving your stuff, and Cally said—’
‘Cally? You spoke to Cally? When?’
‘A week ago when she showed me your work. She asked me to meet her at the gallery, and I’m glad I did ‘cause it really opened my eyes. She said some things that made me think.’
‘What things?’
‘Things about you and me – things I needed to hear. Look, I haven’t been fair to you and I’m sorry.’
I shrugged and signalled the barman for another round of drinks by waving a twenty at him.
‘I want you to come to LA.’
‘What? Why?’
‘I want you to meet your nieces.’
I stared at him as he pulled out his wallet, flipped it open and showed me a photograph of two small, dark-haired, green-eyed angels.
‘This is Olivia, who has just turned two, and Isobel who’s seven months.’ My hand shook as I studied the picture. Of course Ash had kids, and of course he’d kept them from me – I was a monster and they were innocence personified. ‘You can see our mother in them, don’t you think?’
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. ‘Why now?’ I said, handing the photo back.
‘I just think it’s about time, don’t you? Livy loves to paint, maybe you could teach her…?’
I snorted and took another gulp of beer, but deep down the idea appealed.
‘Bay, about that letter…’
‘Have it, take it all, I don’t care.’
‘You do care, and rightly so, but listen, we’re happy to buy it from you at market price. And we can relocate all the charities that are based there at the moment – find them alternative premises that are still low-rent and fit their purposes. We can even cover all their moving-costs, it’s not a problem.’
‘And the garden?’
‘We keep the garden, but why not open it up to the public? We could make it a place for Londoners to escape the stress of the city and eat their sandwiches. It would enhance people’s quality of life, and should increase the value of the surrounding properties. The Isabella Madderson Memorial Garden; what do you think?’
‘You’ve given this some thought.’
He nodded. ‘Well…? Should I start getting plans drawn up?’
‘Knock yourself out.’
‘I’d expected more of a fight.’
‘I have other things on my mind.’
‘Cally?’ he raised his eyebrow.
I scowled at him over the rim of my pint glass as I took another mouthful of lager, but I couldn’t deny it. ‘Have you told her?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘That you love her.’
I rolled my eyes. Was it that obvious? First Felix and now my brother; did everyone know? ‘There’s no point – she’s leaving next week.’
‘Where’s she going?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Abroad?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How long for?’
‘Forever.’
‘Even more reason to tell her.’
‘I’m pretty sure she already knows, she just doesn’t care.’
‘If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that that girl cares about you. Why else would she be showing me your paintings behind your back? Maybe she just needs to hear you say it; know you’re committed. Women like to be clear on that stuff.’
‘What makes you a fucking expert?’
‘Hey – I’m just trying to help – she seems like a nice girl, if a little confrontational for my taste…’
I smirked. ‘Gave you a hard time did she?’
‘She looks so shy and unassuming!’
I laughed and Ash did too, it felt surprisingly good.
Then he looked me in the eye. ‘Don’t lose her over a misunderstanding.’
*
‘Bay, what are you doing here?’ Ivor was hunched in the doorway, sheltering from the rain.
‘I’ve come to see C— Luna.’
‘Luna…? But she doesn’t work here anymore.’ I stared at him and he pulled an apologetic face and shrugged. ‘She quit a couple of weeks ago…’
‘Fuck,’ I muttered under my breath.
Chapter Fifty-five
I was staring vacantly at the blank screen of my laptop, when I sensed someone enter the diner and make a beeline for me. At the sight of him my heart lurched painfully in my chest. He looked cold, wet, and angry.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d quit? Why are you hiding from me?’
Raindrops sparkled in his hair as Bay glowered down at me, and the hurt behind his words tugged at my soul.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, my voice a whisper.
‘Don’t tell me you’re fucking sorry, just answer me.’
‘Hey, I won’t have any trouble in here,’ the guy behind the counter warned. ‘Either calm down and sit down, or take it outside.’
Bay flashed him a look that could kill, but when I reached out and took his hand, the fight went out of him. Pulling out the chair opposite he sat down heavily, shoulders slumped.
‘How did you find me?’
‘There aren’t many places that stay open all night.’ Bay eyed my coffee and then ordered one for himself with a bark. When it was brought over Bay took a sip – scalding hot, black, and without sugar. ‘Why won’t you tell me where you’re going next week?’
Withdrawing my hand from his I tucked my laptop safely into my bag without reply. I was afraid my evasion would make him angry again, but what could I say? Certainly not the truth.
‘I love you,’ he said, his voice unexpectedly loud and blunt, causing other people to turn and look. I spontaneously burst into unladylike tears. ‘I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s the truth,’ he said, passing me a flimsy paper napkin.
Desperately trying to regain my composure, I wiped at my eyes and nose, hating myself for causing a scene and wishing I was somebody else; someone luckier, stronger, braver. Before Bay I was never this emotional; never prone to tears.
‘It doesn’t change anything, does it?’ his voice was dry, his eyes unblinking.
I shook my head and blew my nose and he leaned forwards in his seat, bathing my face in his unrelenting gaze.
‘You’re afraid of me, is that it…?’
He was throwing me a lifeline; an easy way out and though I was ashamed of myself, I took it. ‘Yes,’ I said, meeting his eye. ‘Were you ever going to tell me about Vesper?’
He blanched, his eyes widening and jaw tightening.
‘I can’t stay with you, Bay; this was only ever supposed to be temporary – you know that.’
‘Yes,’ he whispered as if winded, collapsing back into his chair, the light fading from his eyes with a bleak acceptance that was hard to witness.
With a trembling hand I drained the last dregs of my cold coffee while Bay simply sat, slumped and staring at the floor. Despite all my best intentions, I’d ended up breaking the heart of the one person I cared about most.
‘We still have a couple of days, right?’ his voice was defeated; he wouldn’t even look up at me.
I nodded.
‘Let’s just go home.’
‘OK.’ Forcing back my tears I paid for our drinks at the counter, pulled on my coat and followed him outside.
We made love for the rest of the night. I lost count of how many times – we simply stayed in Bay’s bed and devoured each other for bitterly-sweet hours on end, without arguing or flirting or even talking. It was torture; the sorrow-laden desire in his eyes and his every touch so intuitive, reverent and resigned. I wept each time I came, I couldn’t seem to help it, but Bay kissed the tears from my eyes without commenting on their hypocrisy; without pushing for an explanation or laying any blame. He held me like he loved me, pathetic tears and all.
As day dawned, the city woke and Bay finally grew weary and spent. While he slept I studied him
; listening to the steady pulse of his heart, breathing in great lungfuls of his scent and trying to memorise every line, curve and detail of his handsome face. How could he possibly believe I was afraid of him? I trusted him completely. I would never love anyone as intensely or as deeply as I loved him – he was my everything, my all.
It was time to go.
Chapter Fifty-six
Before I was properly conscious, before I’d even opened my eyes, I knew she was gone. She was no longer in my bed, that much was obvious, but somehow I knew that she wasn’t anywhere in the flat or next door either. Cally had finally left me – packed up and vanished two days prematurely. I didn’t want to believe it at first. I kept my eyes squeezed shut and told myself it wasn’t true, but after a while the silence screamed her absence.
When there was no reply at the door to Sidney’s flat, I let myself in with the spare key. The place was immaculate – she hadn’t left in a hurry – she must have been packed for days. There was no note and I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed or relieved. In the bathroom, catching a faint whiff of her perfume, I hated her – hated the sadistic bitch for doing this to me – making me fall in love with her and then leaving a fucking great hole in my existence – as if my life wasn’t riddled with enough holes already. The mirror above the sink shattered in a cobweb effect where my fist connected with it, crimson splashes of blood decorating the clean white ceramic of Sidney’s suite. But I couldn’t feel it. I doubted I’d ever feel anything ever again.
*
A voice called my name and I blinked and shivered. The lights of late-night London shone like stars beneath my feet, under a black sky heavy with cloud. It was drizzling, and as the wind gusted around me the moisture on my skin felt sharp as ice. How long had I been sat up here on the edge? I vaguely remembered climbing the stairs to the roof, but I usually only made this journey once a year on April first; the anniversary of Vesper’s death. She was down there somewhere waiting for me; calling to me. But it was September. I was clearly fucked.
The wind snatched the fag from my hand and it dropped away into space, quickly swallowed up by the gloom. With stiff fingers I picked up the open vodka bottle beside me to take another swig, but then I heard my name being called again and hesitated. Was that was a bloke’s voice…?
