Our Kind of Cruelty
Page 7
After a few days of living in this state of constant anticipation I realised I must have done something wrong. V always had very strict rules and guidelines and clearly I hadn’t behaved entirely properly. She had as good as told me that she still loved me when she had stopped me from talking about Angus because ‘it was too hard’, but there was clearly something more she wanted from me, some ultimate proof that would make me worthy of her love. But, like a fool, I couldn’t yet work out what it was.
Naturally I knew the location of her office; I’d met her outside Calthorpe’s discreet entrance enough times and it wasn’t actually that far from where I worked. There was a bar opposite and I took to leaving work early and sitting in a table by the window. I saw V on only my second night, which was like a sign that I was meant to be there. She emerged from the large, revolving doors just before half past seven, before I’d even had time to sit with my pint at the table in the window. She was wearing a pale blue dress with white trainers on her feet and the grey bag slung across her body. Her hair was in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck and she was reading something on her phone which made her mouth turn downwards. Perhaps Angus was being annoying about some aspect of the wedding. Or perhaps she was wondering how to get out of the whole thing. After she had finished reading she stood for a minute in the street and she looked tired and distracted. I sipped at my beer and wondered if it would be possible to get a decent shot of her on my iPhone, because even the sight of her, just the knowledge that she was so close, had slowed my heart for the first time since our too brief encounter a few days before.
A man approached her, holding an open map in front of him, a small backpack sitting between his shoulders. He asked her something and she replied, leaning over the map and pointing. My body tensed as I watched, knowing that with his height advantage and the angle of her body he was probably able to see down the front of her dress. She finished talking and stood back but he was still standing too close. He said something else and she took a step back, shaking her head, her smile now fixed and closed. He reached forward, but she pulled back her hand and her smile dropped. I stood, my hands clenched at my sides.
It seemed suddenly obvious that V knew I was here watching and that she had engineered this Crave for me to see.
I went and stood in the door of the bar and as I did so I saw her hand shoot to her neck and grab on to the silver charm which could only have been her eagle. She was calling me as clear as day and I was here, right where I could save her. I stepped on to the road, but the man shrugged and began walking away. V stepped forward and raised her hand and a taxi pulled up almost immediately. I watched her get in and speak to the driver, relaxing back against the seat as they drove away. And then I found my breath hard to reach because there was no way that could have been a coincidence. She had been talking directly to me.
The man with the map had stopped again, but now he turned the corner and so I ran across the road and fell into step behind him. He walked annoyingly slowly, stopping often to either look at his map or up into the sky. I slowed my pace and slunk into doorways or leant against walls when he stopped. It was quite interesting actually; it made me realise I rarely look up in cities, but that there are some amazing sights to be seen if you do. London, it appears, is looked over by gargoyles. They sit above windows and doors, snarling and laughing at us all, casting evil spells.
I had no real plan as I walked, but I couldn’t stop following. I alternated between wanting to ask him if V had paid him to enact that scene and wanting to mash his face into the ground. He was tall, but he was out of shape and he walked with a lolloping gait which made me think he had a bad knee. I was sure I could pulverise him in minutes. I could have him lying bloodied and broken on the floor quicker than it would take him to lose consciousness. I could take his stupid backpack and go through his phone for messages from V. And the police would put it down to a mugging and he’d go back to wherever he came from and tell the story for the rest of his life. But of course this wasn’t possible. It was a balmy summer evening in central London and all the streets were heaving with witnesses. I probably wouldn’t even get as far as my first punch before someone called the police.
The man went into an off-licence and came out with four bottles of Beck’s which he carried with his finger through the top of the box, in a very irritating way. I was certain by then that we were heading for St James’s Park, which was odd because we must have walked a long way and I hadn’t realised we were even going in that direction. The light had started to sink and the sky was a deep orange, hazed by pollution. I checked my watch and it was nine fifteen. Once in the park the man sat on one of the first benches and produced a Swiss army knife from his pocket to open the first beer.
‘Excuse me,’ I said as I walked over to stand right in front of him. He looked up at me, a slight smile on his face.
‘Yeah,’ he said, his accent deeply American.
‘I saw you a while back approach a young woman. She came out of a building on Chancery Lane and she helped you with something on your map. Directions maybe?’
He smiled. ‘Oh yeah.’ But then he scrunched up his face. ‘How do you know?’
‘I saw.’
‘But that was a while back.’ Something shifted in his eyes, and he sat forward.
‘What did you say to her?’ A feeling not unlike electricity was running up my legs.
‘What? I asked her directions.’
‘No, after that.’ I could tell he was slow-witted.
‘I asked her if she wanted to go for a drink.’ He sipped from the beer as if to prove his point and I thought it would have been easy to ram the bottle in as far as it would go so he choked on the glass. ‘What’s this about, man? Have you been following me or something?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Did she ask you to speak to her?’
‘No.’ He laughed. ‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘She’s my girlfriend.’ I tried to keep my voice even against the still of the night. ‘We play this game. I just thought you might be part of it. It’s OK to tell me. It won’t ruin anything.’
He looked over his shoulder. ‘Is this for some TV show or something?’
‘No, I’m serious. I’m not going to do anything to you. I just need to know if she paid you to speak to her.’
‘This is fucked-up shit.’ He put the empty bottle on the ground and opened another. ‘D’you want one?’
‘No.’ I could smell the hops from where I stood and I knew how delicious it would taste. ‘Look, who are you? What do you do?’
‘Fuck, man, are you serious?’ I could see the glint in his eye, almost as if he was enjoying the game as much as V and me. I nodded. ‘I’m American,’ he said pointlessly. ‘Just travelling through Europe. Working here and there. Nothing serious. I was lost and asked your girl for directions. She’s pretty and I thought I’d try my luck. She said no; I went on my way. Nothing more or less.’
I breathed into the soles of my feet. ‘Thanks.’ I turned and walked away. I could hear him laughing behind me, the sound following me out of the now dark park.
He was just the sort of person to enjoy being part of our Crave, or to need the money enough to do it even if he didn’t want to. V had no doubt paid him to keep quiet. And of course she would anticipate me following him and talking to him. That would have been part of the deal. I felt I was starting to understand our situation better, that the rules of our new Crave were becoming clearer. It was obvious this wasn’t a game to be played in one night or one moment and it was also clear that the stakes were very much higher. I just had to work out what the end point was and when it was meant to take place. Not, surely, I felt, before the wedding, which was now only ten days away.
I woke the next morning with my alarm and pulled myself out of bed and into my Lycra. My head was heavy and my muscles sluggish and only when I returned home from my run did I notice the half-empty bottle of vodka and remember what I’d done when I’d got home the night before.
I made an effort to say hello to Lottie at work that morning, planning some sort of apology which didn’t actually appear when I saw her blush and look at the floor. I found it hard to concentrate on work and sought Kaitlyn out with an excuse about some figures I could have worked out in my sleep.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked as I leant over her desk while she inputted the numbers.
‘Yes, fine,’ I said breezily.
She turned and looked up at me, her unnaturally blue eyes quivering slightly. ‘You look a bit rough.’
I stood up. ‘Really?’ When I’d shaved that morning I had noticed a redness around my eyes and thought maybe I’d lost a bit of weight on my face.
‘I hope you’re not working too hard.’
‘No, it’s fine.’
‘And last night, Mike, I …’ She blushed and I desperately tried to search my mind for whether or not I had seen her the previous evening, although I couldn’t have.
‘What?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing. It just looks like you had a rough night.’
‘I’m fine.’
She went back to the numbers, tapping against her keyboard. ‘Is everything all right at home?’
‘Yes. Of course.’
She stopped typing and turned to me. ‘I know we haven’t known each other very long, but you can talk to me if you’d like, you know.’
I knew I was going to have to say something because Kaitlyn clearly wanted more than I was giving her. ‘There is something. I get really carried away with my music sometimes and I think I listen to it too loudly. I’m worried I’ve annoyed Lottie.’
But she ignored the question. ‘Doesn’t it annoy Verity?’
‘She’s away at the moment. With work.’
‘Oh.’ Kaitlyn tapped her finger against the glass of her screen. ‘All done. I’ve emailed them to you.’
‘Thanks.’ I went back to my desk feeling no better. I wished I hadn’t gone to see Kaitlyn; everything about her was irritating. I didn’t like the way she looked at me, as if she was peeling back my skin with her eyes.
My mobile rang and I saw Elaine’s name flashing on the screen. I had ignored so many of her calls, but this one I answered, a rush of need spreading through me at just the thought of her.
‘Mike,’ she said, sounding shocked. ‘Goodness, is that actually you?’
I laughed. ‘Sorry, I’ve been so busy since I got home. I’ve been meaning to call you.’
She snorted. ‘How are you, love?’
‘Really good.’
‘Are you settling into your new house?’
‘You must come and see it.’ But even as I said the words I cringed at the thought of her and Barry in the space and how they would never understand it.
‘Well, I’d love to. But actually I was ringing to see if you’d like to come out for lunch this Sunday?’
It felt as though I could taste her words and there was something intoxicating about them. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Oh, super. We’ve got a new boy just started with us and I’d love you to meet him.’
Sundays were a good day to fill as it was hard to watch over V at the weekend.
The journey to Aylesbury was shorter than I had anticipated, so I ended up ringing on Elaine and Barry’s doorbell at twelve o’clock. Elaine answered in her apron, the house fugged up with the smell of roast dinner behind her. Her face leapt into a smile when she saw me and she pulled me towards her, folding me back into her warm, earthy smell. Stepping into the house felt like stepping through time, as if I really could push through space and arrive somewhere different. And yet nothing was different; it was all completely the same. The same worn carpet on the stairs, the same oval table under the mirror loaded down with keys and letters, the same cracked lino on the kitchen floor, the same ancient oven which billowed smoke, the same washing line hanging across the garden, the same wooden table on which we would later eat.
Barry came in from the garden and I saw his roses resplendent behind him. ‘Mike, my boy,’ he said, advancing towards me and wrapping me in another hug. He felt fatter, I thought, although Elaine was perhaps slimmer. ‘Well, well, look at you,’ he said, standing back.
I looked down at myself and saw my polished brogues, my pressed chinos, my crisp blue shirt. It was almost embarrassing in this house. But Barry got us a beer and we sat in the garden and Elaine tried to sit with us, but kept jumping up to perform another task, making Barry roll his eyes at me. The conversation felt weary as soon as it began and there were times when I didn’t know how I was going to answer all their questions. But at the same time I didn’t want to leave; at that moment I could have sat in the garden forever.
Just as we were sitting down to lunch the front door slammed and a tall, lanky boy came into the kitchen.
‘Oh good,’ Elaine said, ‘you’re just in time.’
He came and sat at the table and I could see his chest moving and the sweat on his skin. It reminded me of all the times I had run home to eat Elaine’s food. He kept his eyes fixed on his hands in front of him.
‘Mike,’ Elaine said, ‘this is Jayden. Jayden this is Mike – you know I told you about him. Mike was with us for longer than any other child we’ve ever had.’
He nodded over towards me. ‘All right.’
I smiled back. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘A couple of months.’
Barry stood up to carve, while Elaine ladled potatoes, carrots, parsnips and Yorkshire puddings on to our plates. Sunday lunch in Elaine’s kitchen never changed, whatever the weather. I wanted to ask Jayden why he was here but knew better. I estimated him to be about thirteen or fourteen and from the hungry way he ate his food I could probably guess the answer anyway.
‘Jayden’s mad keen on football,’ Barry said, which I knew must please him as I had sat and tried to keep my eyes open on plenty of Saturday nights while Match of the Day droned away on the television.
‘D’you know the scores?’ Jayden asked, his mouth disgustingly full of food.
‘No, don’t tell me,’ Barry said, holding his hand over his ears and making Jayden laugh, and I wished suddenly I had been able to play this game with him. I knew all at once that Jayden had my room and that he would have put up his own posters and hung his clothes in the wardrobe and that it would already feel like a mini home to him. Elaine and Barry were laughing at something he’d said, which I’d missed, and the chair felt weak and insubstantial beneath me. Things did change and move on, even love.
Elaine reached over and put her hand over mine. ‘Oh, it’s so lovely to have you here, Mikey. We’ve missed you, haven’t we, Barry?’
‘We certainly have,’ Barry said. ‘While you’ve been off wheeling and dealing.’
‘Did you really live in New York?’ Jayden asked.
‘Yes.’ My throat felt strangely clogged.
‘Mega.’
‘But what else has been going on in your life?’ Elaine asked. ‘Any nice lady I should know about?’
I shook my head and for a terrible moment I thought I was going to cry. Thought I was going to lay my head down between the gravy jug and my plate and weep. ‘No, no lady.’
Elaine tapped my hand. ‘I hear Verity’s getting married.’
‘Yes.’
‘She rang to get your new address. Are you going to the wedding?’
I felt the atmosphere round the table shrink and spiral. Verity had sat where Jayden was on quite a few occasions. I had been embarrassed to bring her at first, but she claimed to love it in Peacock Drive. She said it made her feel cosy and Elaine and Barry had always marvelled over her, as if I had brought them an exotic flower to look at. And it all felt wrong suddenly. It was too much that she wasn’t sitting here now and we weren’t t
alking about our wedding. I wanted to tell Elaine and Barry what a mistake it had all been and how V and I loved each other in a way no one else could possibly begin to understand.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it’s next Saturday.’
‘What’s he like, her fiancé?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t met him.’
I saw Elaine glance at Barry. Jayden had taken out his phone and was swiping at something on the screen.
‘So, you’re all right about it then, are you?’ she asked hopefully.
I smiled like I knew she wanted me to. ‘Yes, of course.’
Her body seemed to relax at that. ‘Oh good. It’s just Barry and I knew how hung up on her you were and we didn’t want it to have upset you.’
I felt a million miles away from Elaine and Barry at that moment, the gulf of understanding between us so immense it was as though we meant nothing to each other.
‘She’s a lovely girl, but there’s plenty of lovely girls out there, especially for a fantastic young man like you.’ Elaine was looking at me very closely, as if trying to tell me something with her eyes, so I kept my smile rigid.
‘It’s going to be OK,’ I said.
She looked at me quizzically. ‘Well, of course it is.’
‘No, I mean, between me and V. It’ll all work out fine.’
‘It’s nice you can be friends,’ she said, but I saw her smile had slipped, a bit like a wig on an old man’s head. ‘Maureen’s Sarah got married last year, to a man she met on one of those internet sites.’
I thought of Maureen’s Sarah and her doughy body, her lank, thinning hair, her oversized glasses. I could feel my own muscles tense, even though I was sitting down, and it seemed ridiculous that Elaine could suggest such a thing.
‘Hang on there,’ Barry said. ‘The poor lad’s only just turned thirty, you don’t need to go marrying him off.’
I felt so tired by the time I left I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it home. My eyes ached with the pressure of keeping them open and my throat felt raw and scratched. By the time I stepped off the tube I was shivering against the warmth of the day and I felt the sweat popping on to my skin on the short walk back to my house. Once there, all I could do was strip naked and climb beneath my covers, giving in to a restless sleep in which V visited me in so many different forms I found myself unable to keep up. I woke through the night to the sounds of foxes mating and people laughing and at one point I reached across the bed and felt V’s solid shape. But when I pulled her towards me I realised I was holding a pillow and kicked it away from me in disgust.