From Nemesis Island

by Christine Mustchin

  ‘Sorry,’ said Richard, feebly.

  He forced Doug to stand and propelled him out into the cold night air. The effect was immediate. Minus a large proportion of the beer he had drunk, Doug regained his equilibrium and Richard overcame the fact that he was still harbouring the best part of eight pints in his own gut. They began to walk slowly in search of a taxi. Richard decided to bundle Doug into the first one and gave the driver the address. He was unlikely to throw up again and appeared to be sober enough not to need help.

  ‘Send me a text when you get in.’

  Richard added the safety net as an afterthought.

  ‘Will do. Cheers mate.’

  Richard watched the taxi until it turned the corner. He looked about for another. His nausea had returned. This time he was unable to resist and it was his turn to deposit into the gutter the greater portion of the beer he had drunk. So much for a boys’ night out. Vomiting made him feel better and he began to walk. He thought of taking a bus but let two go by without bothering. He walked down to the river. The water was dark and like treacle to the eye. Pleasure boats cruised slowly under the bridge and he could hear the music and laughter that they cocooned. He walked along the embankment. How different was the Thames from the stretch of water he’d left just a short time ago. He had to get back. Everything else would wait. All he had to do was find something to write about in the interim. He looked down at the water again. This time no Father Piontius came to ask him his intent.

  He walked over Waterloo Bridge. The river was low and, a short distance from the bridge, steps led to a muddy shoreline. Richard went down. He liked the idea of standing isolated and apart on the edge of the murky waterway. But he was not alone. A young girl sat hunched over a pile of rubble near the water. He couldn’t avoid hearing her sobs. He turned instinctively to leave and then stopped. He started to approach her. She didn’t notice him till he was standing over her. She jumped up and made to run off.

  ‘No please. Stop. I won’t hurt you. I thought you might need help.’

  She turned to look at him.

  ‘Here.’ He held out a packet of mints. ‘Have one of these.’

  He took one himself and she seemed to relax a little in the face of his ridiculous gesture. She sat down again and Richard joined her. They sat silently for several minutes.

  ‘My name’s Dick.’

  ‘I’m Claire.’ She sat hugging her knees.

  ‘Do you want another mint?’

  She nodded and took two.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  She nodded again. Close too she looked much younger than he had expected.

  ‘I’ll buy you a burger.’

  She shook her head this time.

  ‘Chips? Bagel? Hot dog? Anything?’

  ‘Perhaps. What do you want in return?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I can’t take something for nothing. I don’t do charity.’

  ‘Ok. Tell me why you’re here, that’ll do.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘No really. It’s my job to find out about people. I’m a journalist. I’d like to write about you.’

  She sat for a moment, clearly thinking about the offer.

  ‘No names.’

  ‘No, no names.’

  ‘Ok. I’d like a giant cheeseburger, fries, a big milk shake and a fudge brownie.’

  ‘Done.’

  And with that, Richard had found a story for Don. He would soon be free to go back. The island beckoned.

  8

  He had managed to book one of the best tables in the restaurant. He knew Trish was pleased. She’d had a definite sparkle in her eyes as the maitre d’ had seated them. And the place was not too busy, just enough people to secure the atmosphere. As usual the service was exemplary: no one left without being made to feel special, the centre of a small universe for an evening. Richard raised his glass. He’d made sure to order a good champagne.

  ‘Here’s to….?’ He paused, hoping for Trish to supply a missing word.

  ‘Us,’ she said on cue, ‘and thanks for rearranging things with Doug.’

  Richard accepted her appreciation without mentioning the previous evening.

  ‘So tell me all about the island. You did promise once you were back.’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t want to risk being overheard. You know, walls have ears and all that and the port is such a small community. I hadn’t got much in the way of concrete info either.’

  ‘And you have now?’

  ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I saw something odd on the island. It was supposed to be a guided tour but I pretended I wasn’t feeling well and slipped off to have a look round on my own.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I saw a goods delivery in progress and they’d left the storeroom door open so I had a look around. It was full of the sort of paraphernalia that would happily supply a brothel.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No way. There were whips and bondage gear and all sorts.’

  ‘Not at all what you would expect to find in a place which purports to have a serious educational purpose.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  He went on to recount all that he’d seen that day, and the girl’s reaction to his absence. Then he went on to talk about his return to the mainland and his encounter with the priest and the girl in his house.

  ‘I knew there was something about that priest. I can see why you want to go back. There could be quite a story to uncover.’

  They ate in silence for a while.

  ‘When are you going back?’

  ‘It’s up to me really but I’ve got to produce some copy before I go back. Earn my salary Don said.’

  ‘Are you going to write about the island?’

  ‘No. I want to keep that to myself for the moment. I’ve got another story anyway: dropped in my lap last night.’

  ‘Last night? I thought you stayed in?’

  ‘Ah. Actually I met up with Dougie.’

  ‘So you didn’t actually have to postpone meeting him today.’ Trish looked displeased.

  ‘Yeah, I know. I should’ve said. It was a bit of a disaster actually. We got chucked out of a pub. Dougie threw up on the floor.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake. When is he going to grow up?’

  Richard thought better of mentioning that he had followed suit.

  ‘Anyway what happened?’

  Well, I put Doug in a taxi and then walked down to the embankment. I bumped into a girl who turned out to be a prostitute. She was only sixteen, or so she said. Told me all about herself and her life in return for a burger and chips.’

  The waiter came to remove the plates, which he did solemnly, ignoring the frosty stare that Trish fixed on Richard.

  ‘What?’ Richard couldn’t ignore the look.

  ‘You’re telling me that you met up with a prostitute by accident?’

  ‘Keep your voice down. It’s true. I went down those steps near Waterloo Bridge onto the shoreline. I just wanted to be alone and think.’

  ‘Oh come on.’

  ‘It’s true.’

  Trish sat in silence. The waiter approached again.

  ‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’

  Trish shook her head.

  ‘No thanks,’ said Richard. ‘Just two black coffees please.’

  ‘Okay, but you mean you let a sixteen year old, assuming she was that old, simply go back to a life of prostitution after buying her a measly burger and chips and using her to get a good story.’

  ‘Well I did get her a milkshake and fudge brownie too.’

  ‘Richard!!’

  ‘Sorry. It doesn’t sound too good the way you put it, does it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hell, there’s nothing I can do now.’

  ‘Well at least write a good story.’

  ‘Right,’ he paused, ‘look you haven’t even told me about that work pro
ject of yours.’

  ‘Changing the subject eh?’

  ‘Pax?’

  ‘Pax.’ She smiled. ‘Yes it’s an all-new venture for me. I’m about to promote medical tourism.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Uh, uh. Cosmetic surgery.’

  ‘What. Get your facelift in Bucharest. That type of thing.’

  ‘Not exactly. Not in Bucharest and not for the face either. It’s specialist cosmetic surgery: just for women.’

  ‘What breasts?’

  ‘No. More specialised than that.’

  ‘What you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What on earth do they do down there?’ Richard lowered his eyes across the table at Trish’s lower body.

  ‘Oh you’d be surprised.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘How about vaginal refashioning, labial enhancement, clitoral enlargement …’

  ‘Stop. Stop.’

  She was laughing now and Richard joined her.

  ‘You men are so squeamish.’

  ‘Not when it comes to real sex though.’

  He took her hands across the table and stroked her palms teasingly.

  ‘Drink up. I’ll get the bill.’

  They fell happily into a taxi and kissed nearly all the way back home. It was only Trish’s sense of decorum that prevented them undressing each other in the lift. They made their way to the bedroom, clinging like limpets to each other, all the while removing items of clothing from each other as they went.

  Afterwards they lay breathless and smiling under the duvet. Trish turned and snuggled into Richard who put his arm affectionately round her.

  ‘It’s good to be back,’ he said. ‘Sorry I’ll be off again soon.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  ‘I was thinking we could go away this weekend to Brighton. Pamper you a bit in a good hotel, meals out, wild sex. What do you think?’

  He moved towards her to kiss her but she sat up suddenly.

  ‘Sorry Dick. Can’t do that. I’m already booked to go away.’

  ‘Yeah? Where to?’

  ‘It’s work. I’m going abroad with this cosmetic surgeon to see his clinic and check out his credentials.’

  ‘I bet you are.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘Just what sort of credentials are we talking about here?’

  ‘Don’t be so vulgar, Dick, or silly.’

  ‘Can’t you put it off?’

  ‘No. It’s all arranged.’

  ‘You could cry off sick. Your company would cover any costs.’

  ‘We’re not paying.’

  ‘What.’

  ‘Now don’t get all indignant. It’s all above board.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure.’

  ‘Come on, Dick, you’re just letting yourself be influenced by all this stuff about the island.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘You could be right. It’s a whole different world where I’ve been these past days. You saw it yourself. Anyway, where are you going?’

  Richard received her answer with a blank face.

  ‘You’re crazy to even think of going, can’t you see that?’

  ‘No I can’t actually and anyway it’s work, it’s none of your business.’

  Richard didn’t reply but got out of bed and put on his dressing gown. He began to walk towards the door.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m going to sleep on the sofa.’

  He closed the door gently but firmly behind him.

  9

  Richard had spent a cold and uncomfortable night on the sofa. He’d been convinced that he’d had no sleep at all but he hadn’t seen the dawn and he hadn’t noticed Trish leaving to go to work. After several cups of black coffee and some toast he was ready to face the day. He set up his laptop on the dining room table. No point in going to the office. He was better off here in any case, with the quiet of the apartment. He hadn’t been able to take notes or make an audio recording; so for once he had to play his interview with the girl from memory. Quotes would be difficult but did accuracy really matter? He was aiming to paint a picture, give an impression; not give evidence that would stand up in court. The facts stood out and were shocking enough without embellishment, but colour was everything in hooking the reader. He worked for a couple of hours before his eyes demanded a rest from the screen. He saved what he had written and went for a walk. The weather had improved and a weak sunlight greeted him. Perhaps he should take up jogging? It was what fit thirty some-things did these days. At least that was something that Trish also seemed to avoid. For a moment he thought he should apologise for his behaviour and then he shrugged. It would only go full circle again until they argued. Was there any point in making an effort? She never compromised when it came to work. Perhaps he should move out? He hadn’t seen his pad for a while. It was only a short bus ride away.

  Twenty minutes late he stood in a large cold room looking across the river. He put the heating on. It was a true bachelor pad, a large studio penthouse with all the luxury designer fittings. It had not been a good choice. True, as an investment it was a success, and the gym and pool in the basement were great assets. But for an untidy bloke to live in a single room, even if it were a decent size with a separate kitchen and bathroom, was impractical if not downright stupid. He looked around. It was a mess, an unlived in and unloved one at that. He tidied up as best as his temperament would allow and left. One more effort then. He stopped off at the row of shops near Trish’s place, real shops he called them, a butcher, a deli, a fruit and veg shop, even a fishmonger. He had not cooked for a while but he would tonight. It would be a surprise.

  10

  At times the vastness of her office was oppressive. At least that’s what Trish had concluded. She’d done well that morning and was ahead of schedule. It was only midday. She could afford a lunch break for once. And she needed to talk. The rancour of yesterday evening’s conclusion continued to bother her. She didn’t like the feeling of bitterness. She picked up the phone. It was a long shot.

  ‘Fi? Hi, it’s Trish.’

  ‘Hi there. How’s it going?’

  ‘Okay. Listen, you free for lunch today?’

  ‘You kidding me?’

  ‘Just a thought.’ Trish’s voice was flat.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just a hunch.’

  Trish did not answer.

  ‘Is it Dick?’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘Well you never have problems with work.’

  ‘Oh hell. Listen Trish, I gotta go. I’ll call you back.’

  Trish hung up. She would make do with sushi at her desk.

  A couple of minutes passed and the phone rang.

  ‘Sorry about that. It’s manic here. I can’t be long. What’s up?’

  Trish gave a speedy resumé.

  ‘I just can’t seem to get him to realise that my job is important to me,’ she concluded.

  ‘Blokes don’t like taking second place to work.’

  ‘But I rely on work for my independence.’

  ‘I know that, but it’s not everything you know.’

  ‘It’s not only that, Fi. Dick seems to think that I can be at his beck and call all the time.’

  ‘Umm sounds like you need a long chat. How about dinner tonight?’

  ‘Great idea.’

  ‘It’ll have to be a late one, though. I shan’t be through here till half eight.

  ‘No problem. Give me a call when you’re free.’

  ‘Okay. See you later.’

  11

  The front door slammed behind her. Richard made a hasty exit from the kitchen and reached her as she took off her coat.

  ‘Let me,’ he said, taking it from her and hanging it up.

  ‘Richard?’ she queried the unusual attention.

  ‘Come here,’ he said redundantly, embracing her and planting a kiss lightly on her lips.

  Sh
e pulled away.

  ‘What’s all this?’

  ‘Just pleased to see you. I was a bit hasty last night.’

  ‘You’re cooking?’ Trish sniffed a delicious aroma that was seeping from the kitchen into the hallway.

  ‘This way,’ he said and led her by the hand into the dining room.

  ‘Da, da! My contribution to world peace; well ours at any rate.’

  Trish looked at the table. It was elegantly laid with table napkins, candles and all her best cutlery.

  ‘Come and have a glass of champagne. It should be chilled by now.’

  He opened the bottle and poured out two glasses. Trish took one and sipped it mechanically.

  ‘Well. Aren’t you going to say something?’

  ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘I’m cooking us a romantic dinner.’

  ‘But I’m going out to dinner tonight.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me.’

  ‘You’re not my keeper Dick.’

  ‘So it seems. Who’s the lucky fella then?’

  ‘Actually I’m meeting Fi if you want to know.’

  ‘Fi. Oh well call her up and cancel. She’ll understand.’

  ‘What, just like that?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You weren’t going to cancel Doug.’

  ‘That’s different. I hadn’t seen him for a while.’

  ‘Well I’m not messing Fi about.’

  ‘But it’s okay to mess me about then.’

  ‘Don’t be childish. I’m going to get ready now.’

  She put down her glass but didn’t get a chance to leave the room.

  ‘Look here Trish. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble today. I’m trying to show you I’m sorry about last night.’

  ‘Well you’ll just have to find some other way.’

  ‘Bitch.’ He regretted the word as soon as it was said.

  Trish stared at him, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed in fury. She picked up her glass.

  ‘Don’t ever call me that again.’ She hurled the remaining champagne in his face.

  Richard let her go and she spent the next half an hour dressing to go out. Her mobile rang and Richard heard the front door slam shortly afterwards. He took the stuffed peppers out of the oven and set them down. Then he sat for a full five minutes, blankly looking at the dish, his feelings frozen. A moment later he had picked up the dish and emptied it into the bin.