by Gill Mather
She left her car at the office and she, Triss and Georgie walked home through the park. It was really cold now and there were Christmas lights on everywhere.
“Triss,” she suddenly started to worry again. “I have to go up to my family for Christmas and you’re going to visit your family too aren't you Georgie. What’ll Triss do?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be all right,” he said, “I’ll find somewhere.”
“No you won't,” said Georgie determinedly. “You’ll stay at the house.”
“Well that’s very kind of you,” said Triss.
“But you’ll be all on your own over Christmas while we’re having fun somewhere else,” wailed Orie.
“It’s just a pagan festival that’s been adopted and given a makeover by the Christian religion. I’ll find plenty to do. If you give me a colour scheme, perhaps I could decorate the house.”
“Not with milk paint you can't. I don't want the walls dripping with mould within a few months.”
“That wouldn't happen.”
“I don't believe you.”
And they argued on. Orielle listened and smiled, happy that things were back to normal.
CHAPTER 9
ORIELLE’S FAMILY WERE in high spirits over the Christmas break. They had a proper party to celebrate Will’s charge being dropped, went to other parties and did the rounds of various relatives. It was 30th January before they knew it and time for Orielle to go back to Colchester. Georgie should be back too today and they had a New Years’ Eve party to go to the next day.
The return train journey was half way through before Orielle’s throat began to ache. By the time she got to Liverpool Street Station it was killing her and by Marks Tey, she barely had the strength to text Georgie and ask to be picked up from Colchester railway station.
“God look at you,” said Georgie. “That’s the trouble with the North of England. Awash with virulent bugs and diseases. And who’s going to come out with me tomorrow night?”
“Triss?” she croaked.
“Gee thanks. No I’ll tag along with the cousins. You look awful. I can't see you going back to work on second Jan.”
Triss looked up as she walked through the sitting room. “Oh dear,” he said, “there was a bit of a flu epidemic starting just as I left Newcastle-upon-Tyne.”
“I knew it,” said Georgie.
“I know you did,” he said.
Georgie got Orielle into bed and there she stayed for three days apart from toilet trips. Triss and Georgie took her copious amounts of water and looked in on her frequently. Late on the fourth day she’d miraculously improved as is the way with healthy young individuals and was able to sit up in bed.
There was a knock on her bedroom door and she called to whoever it was to come in.
Tristram came in holding the small TV from the kitchen with the digibox.
“Georgie said you were feeling better this evening. You’re certainly looking better. I thought you might be bored. Where should I put it?”
“Oh thanks. Put it on the table by the window.”
“And I brought you a cup of tea up as well. It’s on the floor outside.” And he went and got it and placed it on her bedside table. He held a Scrabble box in his other hand. “Georgie thought you might want to play this.” He looked at it doubtfully.
“You’d beat me hands down. We’d need a tray Triss.”
“Oh. Well drink your tea first and then I’ll go and get one.” He sat down on the bed.
“Will you go back to work tomorrow?” he said.
“Probably. I can't really skive another day off. And lots of others are away with this flu too Georgie said. It’s obviously spread down here. I hope you’ve been eating while I’ve been up here.”
“Georgie made me. I thought women were supposed to be soft and gentle. Like you. But she’s excessively forceful. I had to hide some of it in a pot plant so I’ll put it in the bin when she’s gone to bed.”
“Triss you’ve got a black mark on your face.”
“It’s probably from the oven. She had me cleaning that today. It was very very dirty.”
“Here. Come here and I’ll wipe it off.”
She took a tissue from the box beside her bed and he leaned forward. She saw him watching her face as she rubbed his forehead.
“You must’ve had your head in the oven. It’s not coming off. I’ll try some Nivea.”
She went to turn away but he took her shoulder and turned her back to face him.
“Triss?”
“Orielle.” He licked his lips slowly and looked down at her mouth. A smile playing around his own mouth as slowly he bent closer to her and just touched his lips to hers. “Oh,” he said, his voice catching. “Oh. What’s happening to me? Oh.”
Breathing heavily he opened his mouth, closed his eyes and kissed her harder.
Then he stopped and pulled away slightly.
“Triss. Don't stop. Please don't.”
“I don't know. I’ve never felt like this before.”
“It’s called sexual arousal Triss. And it’s irresistible. Take your clothes off and get into bed with me.”
“But you’re ill.”
“Not any more.”
As he did so, she took her T shirt off and wriggled out of her knickers. She held her arms open to him.
“Oh your body,” he said. “Oh it feels wonderful. I’m prickling all over.”
“Kiss me Triss. Kiss me all over. Oh Triss. Oh that’s so nice.”
He had kissed her down to her feet and now he was working his way back up. Level with her he swallowed and said: “Is it time for me to enter you?”
“Yes. Yes Triss,” she said breathing hard. “But don't move once you’re in.”
She guided him in. He filled her up. She squeezed him and moved just a little. It was enough. She was crying out from the exquisite pleasure of it. She thought: he’ll come really quickly. But he didn't. She couldn't stop herself from moving harder, harder, more, harder. And then her orgasm came in a violent rush. Instinctively, he thrust himself as far into her as possible and gasped and cried out himself.
In fact he made quite a fuss over it. “No…No…Please, no. I can't. Make it stop. Oh…..oh…..oh,” he whimpered. “No. No. No.” Eventually he calmed down.
“Oh. What was that?”
“Don't come out yet,” she said. “Kiss me a little longer.”
“Orielle. Nothing like that has ever happened to me. It was like dying.”
“Will you stay in here with me tonight and sleep with me?”
“All right. Your tea’ll be cold now,” he whispered.
“I don't care. Triss. That was gorgeous. And totally unexpected. Just hold me.”
ORIELLE HEARD A SMALL noise. It was dark. The clock display said one thirty in the morning. She put her hand out to feel for Triss but he wasn't there. She raised herself up slightly and saw him silhouetted against the window, facing away, apparently looking out over the garden and beyond it to the park.
“Triss?”
He turned round. He was naked still.
“Triss. Will you come back to bed. Will you love me some more.”
“Orielle. I can't do that again.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“For a start I don't want to impregnate you. That wouldn't be a good idea.”
“We can do something about that. We can make sure that doesn't happen.”
“I know you’re not ovulating at the moment so what we did is all right from that point of view. But I can't do it again. It was catastrophic. Earth shattering. In your terms.”
“But it’s meant to be. If it was just ordinary, people wouldn't bother to do it and then the human race would die out.”
“But it was much too much. Too violent. Like being eaten alive, having bits torn from me, having my insides ripped out. Like dying as I said. It was far worse even than coming over.”
“You’d get used to it. It’s difficult for everyone the first time
.”
“I won't. I can't.”
“What? Never? Never again? But…you liked it didn't you?”
“It was too much.” And he walked out of the room picking his clothes up and taking them with him.
Orielle started to cry softly, then more loudly. She hoped Georgie wouldn't wake up and come in. Her sobs subsided after a time but when she thought about their love-making, so sweet, so innocent and tender, she started to cry again.
Her face was buried in the pillow when she heard the bedroom door open. Triss came and sat on the bed, still stark naked as she was. He stroked her hair and lowered himself to lie next to her but on top of the bedclothes. When she turned to face him he put his arms around her.
“You’re upset. I’m sorry,” he said.
“Triss. Triss.” She put her face and lips to his. He closed his eyes.
“Orielle. Oh no. It’s happening again.” He got up suddenly.
“I’ll have to leave. I’ll put my keys through the letterbox.”
“Leave….?” She was saying. But he was gone. By the time she’d found her dressing gown and raced downstairs, he was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't find his clothes. Just some lumps of cheese and potato in the pot plant.
ORIELLE DRAGGED HERSELF up the next day having had almost no more sleep. She had spent an hour standing in her darkened bedroom peering out of the window to see if he would return but he didn't. He was out there somewhere and she couldn't go back to sleep. She had curled herself up in a ball in bed and wept again until she couldn't any more and stared dry eyed at the wall.
Poor Triss. An outcast. Unable to fit in anywhere. He would have nowhere to live, nowhere to stay. She didn't think there were any cybersquats in Colchester. Or at least if there were she’d never heard of them and Triss had never mentioned them before. On the streets anything could happen to him. Despite what he’d said about the gang members and their followers in December and whatever it was he’d managed to do to get Will off his attempted murder charge, she wasn't confident that he’d be safe.
During the long night waiting for an hour to be reached so that she could decently get up and start to do something, anything, she’d recalled an incident from her childhood in the garden of their home, seeing a rook or crow or some sort of black bird, she wasn't sure of the details now, being mercilessly attacked by a large flock of similar birds. Horrified, she had wanted to intervene but her two older brothers had held her back saying it was nature’s way and they had watched spellbound and fascinated as the poor bird was pecked to death while she lay on the damp grass head in her arms sobbing inconsolably. As the bird eventually lay twitching and occasionally flapping in the vegetable patch and the flock lost interest and flew off, her brothers had at last let her get up and she’d rushed to her room and continued to cry all day. Her brothers, while scolded by their parents when they found out what had happened and made to empty and refill the dishwasher, felt that on balance it was well worth it to have witnessed the spectacle, nature in the raw, uninterrupted by a little sister with a soft heart.
That helpless little bird was now Triss in her head. Vulnerable, liable to attack from others who would sense his strangeness, that is if he didn't outright make it in their faces obvious which he in fact probably would. At least when he had gone off to Newcastle, he had had a purpose and there was the prospect that he would return. And he’d had his cheap mobile and a means for them to be in contact but the mobile had run out of credit and before Christmas he’d walked to a re-cycling centre and left it there. So there it was. This time she felt sure he’d never come back, that she’d never see him again. Having no tears left to cry she lay keening and whimpering as quietly as she could.
Going downstairs finally at six a.m. she picked up the keys from the front door mat, made coffee and sat miserably at the kitchen table hunched up in her dressing gown as the central heating didn't come on until seven (neither of them ever usually surfaced until at least seven) and considered what had happened. Thinking about the events of yesterday, she looked over at the cooker and it was gleaming and spotless. She went over and opened the oven door. Again spotless and the same with the grill and the hob. It nearly started her off again so she went upstairs and hot and cold splashed her face for ten minutes to get rid of the worst of the swollen eyes but her face was still mottled and puffy. She’d have to slap loads of makeup on and put it down to the after-effects of the flu.
She must’ve made too much noise because Georgie appeared yawning at the bathroom door.
“What sort of time do you call this? I could have sworn I heard carnal activity last night. So did you and Worzel Gummidge finally get it together then? I would have thought you’d both still be sleeping it off.”
But seeing Orielle’s stricken blotchy face, she said: “Oh dear. Didn't it go so well then?”
“It was fine. It was spectacular. It was just the aftermath that’s unbearable.”
“Oh I wouldn't worry too much. A lot of blokes don't want to even touch you once they’ve had their end away. It’s not at all uncommon.”
“No. It’s not that. He was very sweet afterwards. But he’s left,” replied Orielle her bottom lip quivering.
“Left!”
“Yes. It was all too much for him and he’s gone. He’s left his keys and he’s gone.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“I thought you’d be over the moon.”
“Well he’s sort of grown on me or at least I’d got used to him. But I meant I’m so sorry for you really. I knew you were sweet on him to use an old-fashioned expression. But maybe it’s for the best. He didn't really fit in. Anywhere. I really couldn't make him out at all. I’m not sure what sort of future you’d have had with him. Him not having any proper career and seemingly no possibility of one and yet being so clever, it wasn't a very good combination. You’d have been bound to get pissed off with it in the end. Anyway he might come back of course.”
“I doubt it. Anyway, I think I’ll go into work early today. There’ll be a bit of a backlog.”
“I hate to see you looking so forlorn. Is there anything I can do?”
“I shouldn't think so.”
“How about going out for a drink tonight and you can tell me all about it. It may help to talk it over. That’s if he hasn’t come back of course. When did he leave?”
“About two a.m.”
“Well don't abandon all hope yet for heaven’s sake. All relationships have teething problems.”
“But you know very well he’s nothing like anyone else. He wouldn't flounce out on a whim. He doesn't care for histrionics or appearances. What you see is what you get.”
“Well think about the drink. It might make you feel better. Shall we decide later?”
“OK.”
IT WAS A MISERABLE cold dark morning to be going into work feeling like this. The weather wouldn't have mattered if he’d still been at home. In fact she’d have danced through the light mist to the car.
When she got in, Hugh was already there and a few others. She’d have, she thought, to pull her socks up, stop dosing until as late as possible every morning and get in early like the others. It was just a waste of time to languish in bed and it might stop her moping too much. The work was certainly there and it would do her good to concentrate on that for the time being until she got her head sorted out.
By lunchtime she’d turned out a pile of work and she rushed down to the car park and hurried home. But there was no sign of Triss. She walked into and around the park for forty minutes and he wasn't there and by that time she had to go back to work.
She met Hugh in the car park coming back from somewhere. He asked her kindly whether she was better after the flu and looked at her. With his hands in his trouser pockets, he bent down and looked at her more closely, frowning.
“Are you all right? I haven't seen you yet today but you don't look well still.”
“I’m fine. The flu’s all gone.”
“Oh. Well. If you’
ve got any problems or anything, you can always go and see Amanda. She’s our new matron now as well as the office manager and everything else.”
“Thanks,” said Orielle wanly, “That’s very kind.”
They walked into the office in silence. Hugh didn't know what to say to this twenty four year old. She was obviously suffering from more than the after-effects of flu. He tried not to dwell on it but her appearance put him in mind of the way Ali had looked over a decade ago after he had split up with her. She looked pale and cowed and diminished and completely distracted. He hated dredging up these memories, mostly now bitter and not at all sweet. He sometimes wished he hadn't taken on a twenty four year old female law graduate with things like boyfriend troubles to pique his memory. With Orielle he assumed it would be that strange young man she had picked up somewhere that no-one could understand. But it was too late now. She was all signed up. He would mention it to Amanda. Maybe she could open a dialogue with Orielle. He certainly wasn't going to.
AMANDA WATCHED ORIELLE for a few days then thought she’d better say something. It seemed wrong for her to be left sleep-walking through her days feeling wretched with no support from any of them. She noticed that when Orielle went to talk to anyone, she swallowed first as though trying not to choke or trying to keep her food down. She knew the symptom very well of old. The sense of panic when the cause of the upset threatened to overwhelm. Almost breaking into a sweat.
Going into Orielle’s room, she said: “Orielle. There’s something wrong. We know there is. Do you want to come to my room and talk. Or talk here if you like. We may not be able to do anything about it, but suffering in silence can be unbearable. We’ve all been through upsets like you’re probably having, believe me.”
“Oh. I don't know. I know my situation isn't unique. Well in fact actually it may be.”
Amanda went and shut the door and sat down.
“Is it Tristram?”
“Yes. You know he’s a bit strange. People probably find it difficult to understand why I’m…. involved with him. Although I’m not any more.” She swallowed down her panic and looked a little wild eyed.
