However he found out, I felt certain he would hate me, because he wouldn’t hear my side of the story. He would assume that I had done it as a kind of sick joke, or for monetary gain. The thought of him thinking badly of me made me feel physically sick; I had to get down from my desk and bend double on the floor. And it was whilst crouching down there, staring at the crumbs in the carpet, that I realized I had to break the news to him, now. I had to explain in person. If he understood why I had done it, he would forgive me.
Normally I carefully consider the pros and cons of major decisions, but the moment this idea came to me, I knew it was the right and only course of action. And I admit that I was anticipating more than just forgiveness from Connor. After all, if Tess was dead, there was nothing to stop us being together. Once he was over the shock of the news, he would see that. Now he was free to love someone else, and the person he wanted was right here, in London, ready and available.
My anxiety morphed into impatient excitement; I wanted to see Connor right away. As I say, it was a Friday afternoon, so I decided I would go down to Temple and catch him as he was leaving work for the day. I put on the tight Tesco skirt and top I had bought for our previous, thwarted encounter and brushed my hair forty times. Luckily Jonty was out, so I didn’t have to invent another excuse for looking so dressy; it also meant I could use the mirror in his room, the only full-length one in the flat. I had mum’s make up bag but there was no need for it: my eyes were shining and cheeks were rosy, all of their own accord. I looked as nice as I had ever done, I thought, and smiled at my reflection.
It was five past six when I reached his office. My normal bench was occupied by three middle-aged tourists taking the weight off their feet, but I couldn’t have sat still, anyway: I was too excited. I paced up and down the little park, mouthing to myself the opening line I had decided upon – ‘I have some bad news, and some good news’ – and all the while keeping my gaze locked on the black door of Asquith and Partners. Just before half-past six, Connor emerged.
He was alone, his leather bag strap across his chest, talking into his phone and walking briskly up the road. As before, the sight of him produced a lurching sensation in my chest and made my legs feel weak, but at the speed he was walking I had no time to waste. I gathered myself and started after him, struggling to keep him in view as he headed out of the cobbled streets of Temple and onto the larger road above, which was busy with cars and people. At the pavement he came to a halt, still talking on his phone. I was able to catch up, and was almost within touching distance when I heard him say, ‘Yeah, I see you.’
I stopped, and watched as he waved in the direction of a little red car parked on the other side of the road. In the driver’s seat was a smiling blonde woman, and in the back, waving back at him enthusiastically, were two little children. I watched as Connor waited for a gap in the traffic, crossed the road and got into the passenger seat. He leaned over to kiss the woman on the lips, before turning around to greet Maya and Ben. And I watched as Chrissie started the engine and pulled out, and the red car merged with the traffic and disappeared from sight.
I don’t know exactly how long I stood there on that thronging pavement. I was aware that the people walking past seemed annoyed that I was rooted to the spot, and pointedly pushed past my shoulder or clicked their tongues. If they had asked I would have explained that I couldn’t actually move; my legs would not let me. My brain felt similarly leaden inside my skull, as if it had shut down in order to avoid processing what had just happened. It only allowed silly, tiny thoughts, like how it was a good thing that I had not put on any mascara earlier, as it would now be smudged down my face.
Eventually my legs started to work again and transported me to the tube station. The train was rammed, but a woman stood up and offered me her seat. I’m not sure why she did it but I was grateful. Sitting down, I was aware of how short my skirt was: my lap seemed to be all bare thigh, the skin pale and mottled. Beside me was a man in a crumpled suit, who looked a similar age to Connor, slouched with his legs wide apart and tapping on his iPhone. The screen was in full view and I watched, as if from behind glass, as he composed a text to someone called Mila: I’ll make it worth your while, you know that. I haven’t forgotten what I promised at Ascot … Xxx. I imagined myself leaning over and typing PS – Oh and guess what – I’m married!
Back at the flat, I was relieved to discover that Jonty was still not home. I wrote him a note saying I was ill and not to be disturbed, and locked my door behind me. It hit me then that I was completely exhausted, and without taking off my shoes I lay on the sofa and fell asleep.
When I woke it was very dark, and both the street and the flat were quiet. Opening my laptop to check the time, I noticed I had forty-eight new emails, and was confused until I remembered that I had set up a Google news alert for mentions of Adrian and Red Pill. The Saturday newspapers had just been published, full of updates, analysis and debates on the story.
I read the stories impassively, as if I had no personal connection with the subject matter. Another member, a boy called Stephen, had come forward to say that he had also been approached by Adrian to take over someone’s life, but hadn’t gone through with it. There were more reported sightings of Adrian, in England and overseas, in Prague and New York. One paper carried the headline Is YOUR child part of a suicide cult?.
In an interview Randall had been asked how many others he thought might have been enlisted, and had replied, I don’t know. God knows. Hundreds, maybe. The paper then used this as justification to ask a ‘respected psychologist’ to compose a checklist of warning signs for parents worried that their child was one of Adrian’s minions. The first question was, Does your child spend an excessive amount of time at their computer? The second: Do they keep odd, antisocial hours?
Although I read the articles, I could not concentrate on them. All I could think about was Connor; or, more specifically, why had he done this? Why did he lie about being separated from Chrissie? Over the course of the weekend he sent Tess several emails, all as flirtatious as normal. When I asked him what he had got up to on Friday night, he said he’d gone out for drinks with people from work and then ended up at a party in Whitechapel. It was boring, because you weren’t there.
I re-read our past emails. Wondrous creature. This is a rare thing that’s happening here, you know that? I feel I can tell you anything. Kiss me first. He had asked me once about my memories of being a child, and I told him about a memory of walking down Kentish Town High Street with mum when I was seven – although I relocated the scene to Dulwich, where Tess grew up – and spotting what I thought was a little pink teddy bear in the gutter. I had presumed that some other child had dropped it, and felt sorry for it because it was all dirty and forgotten. I crouched to pick it up, and it was only when I lifted it to eye level that I saw it wasn’t a teddy after all, but a sawn-off pig’s trotter. Aww, poor little Heddy, he had replied. That’s too sad. I want to come and wrap my arms around you. Now that mum was dead, he was the only person who knew about that.
Did it really matter that he was married, I wondered. Perhaps he and Chrissie were putting up a front for the children. One of Tess’s unhappily married friends, Carmen, had emailed her once: We’re doing the old ‘staying together for the kids’ thing. Perhaps he was being selfless by staying married to Chrissie. And he hadn’t told Tess because he suspected she would have nothing to do with him. No more married men had been one of her 2009 New Year’s resolutions.
And people got divorced, didn’t they? If they fell in love with someone else? And that other person was available?
These weren’t the kind of questions that could be answered by Google, and, not for the first time, I wished that Tess was around to advise me. But then, I knew what she would say. She would tell me I shouldn’t have expected anything from Connor in the first place. She thought that all men were, I quote, just ‘horny little toads’, who would do exactly as little as they could get away with. She didn’t say it w
ith regret or anger but with casual resignation, as if it were just a fact, written into their biological code.
During one of our conversations I took issue with this view, pointing out that it was a sweeping generalization which didn’t hold up on several points. By the same token, women should all share certain characteristics too, and Tess and myself were examples of how two people could share a gender yet barely any similar personality traits. I also pointed out that this ‘toad’ quality was not much in evidence in her own dealings with men, most of whom seemed keen for more commitment from her than she was willing to give them. Actually, I said, from the evidence of her life and from what I could garner about the supposed differences in the sexes, it seemed that she was the one playing the supposed ‘man’s role’, hopping between partners.
I remember she was lying on her back on her bed as we talked, so I couldn’t see her face for much of the conversation, but at that point she sat up and looked directly at the camera, her head tilted to one side and an amused look on her face.
‘Babe, no offence but I’m not sure you’re qualified to advise on sexual politics,’ she said.
But over the last few months I had realized something: that just because Tess said something with total conviction, it didn’t mean that she was right. Back then, it was true, she was far more knowledgeable about relationships than me and I had little to back up a challenge to her assertions. Now, though, I had had some experience myself and did feel qualified to make my own judgements – and I just didn’t agree that all men were the same and could not be trusted. Each person and relationship was complex and unique. And I knew Connor far better than Tess ever did.
I realized that I had to talk to him, as soon as possible.
The next day I could was Monday. I considered going down early to his office to catch him as he arrived for the day but decided against it; he was often late, I knew, and might be rushed and flustered. A better time would be when he left the office for lunch.
On the Monday morning I woke early, at 10 a.m., feeling eager and nervous in equal measure. I couldn’t sit still, and the prospect of waiting in the flat for two hours until it was time to leave was unappealing, so I made the decision to walk to Temple. I hadn’t walked that far before, ever, but this was an important, life-changing day and it felt appropriate to be bold.
Once again I put on my new skirt, and brushed my hair until it rose from my scalp with static. Luckily, Jonty was away for a few days visiting his parents, so I didn’t have to think of an excuse for my smartness. I left the flat and made my way down to the Thames path. It was a nice day for October; the city gleamed in the sunlight and the air was fresh and invigorating – not that I needed energizing. The tide was low, and just before Tower Bridge I noticed a group of people down there, using their hands and tools to dig around in the exposed river bed. I recalled Jonty arriving home filthy one day and enthusing about a new hobby of his called mudlarking, which involved scavenging for artefacts from the Thames’ sediment; perhaps that was what these people were doing.
Excitement made me walk quickly and the journey to Temple took less time than my route planner predicted. By the time I reached my bench it was only 12.15 p.m., at least three-quarters of an hour before Connor would venture out for his sandwich. I felt frustrated at the prospect of waiting, until it occurred to me that now I didn’t have to. After all, if I was going to reveal the truth, it was no longer necessary to engineer a meeting; I could just go into his office and ask to see him.
I walked across to the black door and pressed the intercom. A female voice answered and I stated loudly and clearly that I was there to see Connor Devine. I was buzzed into a small, surprisingly shabby reception area. The woman behind the desk looked at me curiously, and asked whether I had an appointment. No, I replied, I was here on an urgent personal matter. She asked my name, picked up her phone and dialled a three digit number.
‘Connor, there’s a Leila here to see you,’ she said, and at that, hearing it so baldly stated, my confidence faltered. I stepped backwards and opened my mouth to say I was leaving but before I could speak Connor had appeared through a side door, as if he’d been waiting just behind it.
He looked at me and frowned, then glanced over to the receptionist, as if to say, ‘Is this her?’ She nodded, and he looked back at me.
‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ I said. My resolve flooded back. ‘Come outside.’
He frowned again, but followed me out onto the street. I walked a few paces away from the office, and turned to face him. Connor looked back at me and, absurd as it sounds, it was as if an electrical current passed between us. In just a few seconds I absorbed every detail of him: the pink tinge around his eyes; the thick, neat stubble; those wings of hair, covering the piercing in the top of his left ear that he’d had done whilst drunk in Thailand on his year off.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘Have we met?’
‘Yes,’ I said, nodding firmly.
His eyes searched my face.
‘Are you Tobias’s sister?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t know Tobias. I’m Leila.’ I realized I hadn’t really thought out how I was going to approach this. ‘I know Tess.’
His expression changed, softening for an instant and then becoming more alert. He shifted on his feet and glanced around.
‘Who are you?’ He looked at me closely. ‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’
Perhaps best not to remind him of our previous meetings yet, I thought. ‘I told you,’ I said. ‘I’m a friend of Tess’s.’
‘Is she all right?’ he said. ‘Has something happened to her?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Well, yes. I need to tell you something. Can we sit down?’
I motioned towards the bench and we sat. I took yesterday’s newspaper out of my bag and laid it on his lap. He gave me a quizzical look, before picking it up and looking at the front page. It was only then that I noticed the ring on his left hand. Had it always been there, or had he taken it off when I met him before?
After a few seconds, he put the paper down.
‘I’m sorry, I’m at a total loss as to what this is all about and I’m very busy. Has something happened to Tess?’
‘Yes. But first you need to know about Adrian Dervish,’ I said, indicating the paper. ‘Apparently encouraging people to commit suicide.’
‘Right,’ he said, impatient. ‘And?’
I had presumed our conversation would flow naturally, like it did online, but that was not the case. It no longer felt like Connor and I had a special connection; in fact, at that moment he might as well have been a total stranger. I felt panicked that things were not progressing as I had anticipated, and changed tack – perhaps too abruptly.
‘Tess is dead,’ I said.
I watched his face carefully as I said the words. There was a twitch at his eyebrows, but his features remained impassive.
‘What?’
‘She killed herself,’ I said.
‘When?’ he said quietly.
I paused, knowing that after I answered this question, nothing would be the same. Connor had turned away and was staring into the middle distance, his mouth slightly ajar. It wasn’t too late, I thought. I could just tell him that Tess had died that morning, in Sointula, then get up and walk away. But if I did that he would never know he had been writing to me. Our relationship would be over and I would almost certainly never see or hear from him again.
‘When?’ he said again, turning back towards me.
I laid my hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture and took a breath.
‘Four months ago,’ I said.
He looked up sharply. His eyes had almost disappeared, like they did when he was amused, only now he wasn’t smiling.
‘That’s impossible. We emailed yesterday.’
‘You weren’t writing to her,’ I said. ‘Well, that’s not true. I mean, you were writing to her, but it wasn’t her reading the emails
. Or replying. It was me.’
He stared at me, and when he finally spoke his voice had lowered to something like a snarl.
‘What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you?’
His aggressive tone startled me. The image of him walking towards Chrissie and the children in the car resurfaced, and I felt indignant.
‘I told you. I’m a friend of Tess’s – a much better friend than you. I know her a thousand times better than you do.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I told you,’ I said, exasperated. ‘Tess is dead, and I …’
‘Did you kill her?’ He stood up suddenly and stepped backwards away from the bench, staring at me like I was a dangerous dog.
‘No!’ I said. ‘I helped her!’ My indignation suddenly dissipated and, to my dismay, I felt on the verge of tears. ‘Please sit down.’
After a moment, he did, but again turned away so all I could see of his face was a muscle twitch at his jawline.
‘I was only doing what she asked me to do,’ I explained. ‘She wanted to die but she didn’t want to upset her family and friends, and so she asked me if I would take over her life, so that she could quietly slip away and—’
‘And kill herself?’ said Connor.
‘Yes,’ I said.
Again Connor rose from the bench, but this time he didn’t step away. He had his back to me and I watched from behind as he produced a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his trouser pocket. I heard a click and watched his slim shoulders rise and fall under his suit jacket as he inhaled.
Kiss Me First Page 23
