The Crescent was quiet in the late evening sunlight, and she unlocked the front door and started to climb the first flight of stairs; and then, almost ashamed of herself, went back and propped the front door open, thinking – if there’s anyone up there who jumps me, I’ll scream and people out in the street will hear – and then unpropped it, realizing how much more dangerous it could be to give any passerby easy access to the house.
But no one jumped her, and she let herself into the flat with a deep sigh of relief, and then almost leaped out of her skin as the bedroom door banged, and he said loudly, ‘And where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you!’
‘Theo,’ she said after a moment and went into the living room and dropped her bag onto the coffee table. ‘You frightened me. I didn’t expect you back yet –’
‘I frightened you!’ He was wearing just a towel tied round his waist, and his hair was damp from the shower. He looked flushed and his face was tight. ‘How the bloody hell do you think I’ve been feeling? I’ve been phoning you from Bristol every hour, and leaving Christ knows how many messages with the answering service and not a damned peep do I get out of you. What the hell have you been doing?’
‘And what goddamned business is it of yours?’ She turned on him, giving in to the luxury of losing her temper, putting on a show of being more angry than she was. ‘Jesus Christ, you don’t own me! I’m not a baby, you know, to be watched all the time! I was out, all right? O-U-T. Out. Dealing with my own affairs. Doing my own thing. None of your business!’
‘None of my – listen, Maggy. I live here, right? With you, right? What’s more I work with you, so I know what you’re doing, usually, and where and who with. And I happen, fool that I probably am, to care about your welfare. All right? From where I stand that adds up to a perfect right to ask you where the hell you’ve been this past two days, when I’ve been trying to get hold of you. I know the only work you had to do was here, that you weren’t due anywhere else, and when I couldn’t get any answers I got worried, what with everything that’s been going on. I should have stayed in Bristol another two days, but I couldn’t – I had to come back and find out what was happening –’
She pulled off her jacket and walked past him into the bedroom. ‘Oh, yes! I can tell how worried you were. I mean, first thing you do when you get here is take a shower, make yourself comfortable. Just the way to start a search for a missing person –’
He shot across the room behind her and took her shoulder in one hand and pulled her round and she stared at him, her chin up, feeling a wave of stubborn silliness rising in her. It was like being a small child again, deliberately being outrageous, deliberately sulking and being hateful when all Dolly wanted was for her to be nice and loving and warm, when most of her own self really wanted to be nice and loving and warm. But the stubborn silliness was more important and much more powerful, and she said tightly, ‘Take your bloody hands off me,’ and pulled away from him.
It wasn’t deliberate; at least she didn’t think so, but in pulling away she moved her foot and her high-heeled boot came down hard on his bare toes and his face whitened with pain and almost as a reflex movement his hand came round and hit her face, hard, so that her head snapped back on her neck and her eyes filled with tears of pain and shock.
‘You lousy bitch!’ he shouted and hit her again, the other side of her face, so that her head snapped back the other way, and she lost her balance and fell against him and he held on to her tightly, trying to stay upright. And then they were both falling, tied together in a knot, landing heavily on the floor, she on top of him. They lay there breathless, both crying, and holding on to each other so tightly that she could feel his fingers pinching into her arm, causing a pain that was greater than the stinging on her cheeks or the aching of her neck. But she was glad of it, wanting to feel the hurt, because it made her feel right again, made her feel alive now, in the present, a separate living person, rather than someone just standing at the end of a long line of past experiences, looking backwards at old feelings.
‘Oh, Christ. I’m sorry –’ he gasped and his fingers eased on her arm, and he tried to sit up, but she was still holding him down.
‘Me too –’ she said, equally breathless, and turned her head so that her face was over his, and kissed him, more eagerly and hungrily than she could ever remember doing.
It had never been quite like this before. They’d been sleeping together now for over three years, but never had it been quite like this. She pulled at her own clothes, ripping them and not caring, sweating heavily as she twisted against him, and he was so urgent, so aroused, that she couldn’t remember ever feeling so much pain; or liking it and needing it so much either. He seemed to be all sex, nothing but sex, as though his whole body had been converted into the huge pushing that filled her. It felt so good, so agonizing, that when she did come, bursting over the top into an explosion of feeling, it was more like anticlimax than climax; the least part of the whole experience.
And for him too the end seemed less important than what had gone before and they lay there, panting a little, not moving, eyes half-closed.
After a while he spoke, heavily, his voice sounding thick in his throat. ‘I took a shower because it was something to do. There was nothing else I could do, was there? Just be here and wait and hope you’d come in.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, and rolled a little, so that they separated at last and she stood up, gathering her torn clothes about her, and got to her feet and went to the bathroom, still steamy and scented and littered with damp towels and his shaving gear. But it didn’t irritate her, as sometimes evidences of his occupation irritated her. It was comforting, reassuring, to see his razor beside her talcum powder and bath oil, and she found herself whistling the theme from Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole between her teeth, the way she always did when she was particularly content. She didn’t whistle it very often.
He appeared at the door while she was in the shower; she could see him over the top of the glass screen as she stood there, letting the water run over her head, plastering her hair to her cheeks, and revelling in it, and she grinned at him through the water.
‘You’ve got cream on your whiskers.’
‘Eh?’
‘Cat that got the cream. Pleased with yourself. Why does getting violent with sex make a man look pleased with himself?’
‘You don’t look precisely upset yourself. Very creamy in fact. Did I hurt you?
‘Yes.’
‘Should I apologize?’
‘You dare. Next time the same. Please.’
‘I’ll tell him.’
‘Without the fury, though –’ She turned off the water, and stepped out and he unhooked her robe from the wall and gave it to her. ‘I don’t need the fury. Just the violence.’
He grinned then, leaning against the door jamb, looking very relaxed and comfortable. He’d put on the black shirt again, over white drill trousers, and looked good and knew it.
‘Any other orders?’
‘I’ll let you know. Dry my back for me –’ He did, and then rubbed in her afterbath lotion and she pushed and twisted herself against his hand like a happy cat, almost purring, and he slapped her buttocks lightly and pushed her away.
‘Come on, get dressed. I’m starving. We’ll go to that Greek place – at Notting Hill Gate. Andrea’s.’
She shook her head, walking past him back to the bedroom and throwing herself down on the bed, enjoying the feeling of the fake fur spread against her moist skin.
‘I’ve eaten.’ She yawned then, and rolled over on to her side. ‘Joe Allen’s. Go get something from the fridge, hmm?’
‘I’ve looked there, and it’s damn near empty. Nothing but cottage cheese and yoghurt and that I can do without. I’ll go over to Notting Hill and get a doner kebab, then. And some baklava. Do you want some?’
‘Not a thing,’ she said and yawned again, and her eyes closed and he laughed and kissed her, and she heard
his footsteps going across the living room, and the front door of the flat close behind him as she fell asleep.
How long she slept she didn’t know. Her eyes opened suddenly and her pulse beat heavily in her throat as she lay there startled, staring at the wall, and then it came again – the shrilling of the front-door bell, far below.
He’s forgotten his key, silly ass, she thought sleepily and rolled off the bed and went across the room, pulling her shoulders back into a small stretch as she walked. Her neck still hurt, and for a moment she forgot why, and then, remembering, grinned. The bell rang again and she pressed the button beside the door and muttered, ‘Idiot! Come on then –’ into the intercom, and switched on the living-room light, because it was getting dark now, and went back to the bedroom.
But she didn’t fall asleep again, and as the moments went by she found herself tightening. He ought to be up by now, for God’s sake. It is a bit of a climb, but he’s used to it after all –
And suddenly all her fears were out on spikes all over her so that she felt like a porcupine and she was tumbling off the bed, trying to run to the door of the flat to barricade it somehow, to keep whoever it was out. Oh, Christ, why didn’t I look in the mirror? Why did I just press the damned button –
And then the door began to open, and suddenly aware of the fact that she was completely naked she turned and ran again, back to the bathroom this time, more frantic about being seen like this than about who might do the seeing.
Behind her the living-room light went out as someone flicked the switch and she stumbled, trying to move faster, reaching for her robe which was lying crumpled on the bathroom floor. But she wasn’t fast enough; she felt the weight behind her of something, and didn’t know what she was feeling. Because she wasn’t feeling anything at all.
She opened her eyes to a painful brightness and closed them again, screwing up her face, and then felt the nausea huge and imperative in her belly and retched, and then someone was holding her head and she was dreadfully, agonizingly sick, heaving and spitting and hurting abominably.
‘All right, love, all right – hold on – there’s someone coming –’ Theo’s voice very loud, very frantic, and again she was sick, and then let her head roll back as the nausea went, and she lay panting on the floor. It was as though time had slipped backwards and they’d been screwing on the floor and she had burst over the top again, and –
‘Someone came in,’ she said suddenly, creasing her eyes so that only the minimum of light could get in, staring up, looking for Theo’s face. ‘Oh, Christ, someone got in – rang the bell and I thought it was you without your key and pressed the button and then –’
‘I know, love. Hold on. I know. No need to wear yourself out – oh, thank God!’ Someone else was there, a man beside her, touching her head, making it hurt again, and she winced and said, ‘What the hell – who – where –’
‘Doctor, love. I took one look at you and called a doctor,’ Theo said, and his voice was thick with anxiety. ‘I should never have left her, I know I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t think – damn it. I should have thought –’
The doctor was shining a torch in her eyes, making her wince again, and then telling her to look at his finger, follow his finger, this way and that, and peering in her ears and her nose, and she felt suddenly as though she were on display in front of a huge jeering audience and tried to turn her head away from him, but he was relentless and went on and on, and Theo’s voice in the background went on and on too, castigating himself, thick with fury and shame.
‘She’s all right,’ the doctor said, and stood up. ‘Here, help me and we’ll get her to bed. Just a bit concussed – skin’s a bit bruised, that is all. No laceration. He didn’t hit her all that hard, whoever he was –’
They were pulling on her shoulders and her legs and again she was dreadfully, shamingly aware of her nakedness and began to cry helplessly, and Theo murmured, ‘It’s all right, sweetie, all right. You’ve had a bad shock – easy does it –’ and then, at last, blessedly, she was in bed, under the covers, and could be a person again.
‘Will she be all right? Should she be in hospital? Should I get a nurse?’ Theo said anxiously, and she tried to shake her head at him, but it hurt too much.
‘It’ll take me half the night to get her a hospital bed. You know how it is these days,’ the doctor said. ‘As for a nurse – no, I don’t think so. Keep an eye on her, wake her up every hour or so to make sure you can – if she’s sick again, or hard to rouse, call me. I’ll fix a hospital bed for her then. Right now, I don’t think it’ll be necessary. She’s got a hard head –’
She could see him more clearly now, a big shabby-looking man, and he looked down at her and said curiously, ‘What did he want?’
‘What?’
‘The guy who did this. Not sex, obviously –’ He grinned at her, cheerfully, not in the least offensively. ‘I mean, stark mother naked, and very nice too, and all you got was a bash on the head. Didn’t you?’
She closed her eyes, trying to think. Sex? Oh, God, had he, whoever he was? Could that have happened? She moved her body experimentally and felt a terror deep inside, but whether that was a real sensation or just a memory of what had happened with Theo she couldn’t be sure.
‘Yes,’ she said loudly, opening her eyes. ‘Yes. That was all. I’d know if – it was just my head.’
‘If you say so, then it was,’ the doctor said and grinned. ‘Women always know about these things, even if they’ve been knocked out. I don’t think you were out for long anyway. Did you see anything when you came back?’
He was looking up at Theo now and Maggy turned her head and looked at him too. He was standing beside her, one hand protectively on her shoulder and looking wretchedly anxious, and she tried to smile at him, to reassure him. But it was too much of an effort; she was feeling incredibly weary now.
‘I didn’t look,’ Theo said, his voice rather high and tight. ‘I mean, I just came in, let myself in the front door – the street was fairly full of people, and I never looked at them –’
He stopped suddenly and wrinkled his eyes, thinking. ‘Oh, shit! I heard someone go down as I came up, I’m sure I did. I passed the second floor and the light had blown – it’s always blowing, that bloody light – and it was dark, and when I was half-way up the next flight I heard someone going down, but I didn’t think anything of it I mean, there’re so many comings and goings in this house. The people who live in the flats, the people who visit – I didn’t hear a door shut though, just someone going down. It must have been – oh, Christ, if I’d known! I’d have been after him like a –’
‘Well, you didn’t,’ the doctor said practically. ‘So no point going on about it. Tell the police when they come. You’ve called them?’
‘I didn’t stop. Just called your number. If you hadn’t been there I’d have dialled 999, I suppose – I was just frantic about Maggy –’ He looked down at her, squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. ‘You’re sure she’s okay?’
‘She’s a strong healthy girl. It’d take more than a tap on the bonce to hurt her for long. Go call the police, man. I’ll wait here till they come, in case they need evidence. Less trouble than being called out again.’ There was something almost avid about his interest, Maggy thought somewhere deep in her fatigue. He’s too bloody interested. Maybe it was really he who came and hit me? Oh, Christ, here I go again. Suspecting everybody.
‘Theo,’ she said effortfully, and was almost surprised to find that her voice sounded normal. ‘Theo, did he do anything else?’
‘Anything else? Christ, Maggy, wasn’t it enough?’
‘I mean, take anything –’ She moved then, lifting herself up in bed. She was beginning to feel better. A lot better. ‘He must have wanted something. Anything gone? There’s the radio and the record player – have they gone?’ Please say yes they have. Please let it be just a tatty little robbery. Then I can forget about it.
‘I haven’t looked.’ He squeezed
her shoulder again and went away and she could hear him moving about in the sitting room. The doctor sat beside her on the bed and put his hand on her wrist, checking her pulse.
‘Nothing, as far as I can see.’ Theo came back, standing beside the bed and looking down at her, his face creased. ‘Everything looks fine. But he wasn’t interrupted or anything – I mean, he must have already been half-way down as I unlocked the front door downstairs, if it was the chap I heard –’
‘Give me my dressing gown.’
‘Now, Maggy, don’t be silly! You’ve had a nasty wallop, for God’s sake. Stay where you are – there’s nothing missing, and –’
‘My dressing gown!’ She was sitting upright now, holding on to the counterpane to cover her nakedness and glaring at Theo. ‘I’m feeling better now, and there’s something I’ve got to check. If you won’t give it to me, I’ll just pull the sheet off and use that.’ And she began to tug at the sheet.
‘Won’t do her any harm,’ the doctor said and stood up. ‘I always reckon you can leave it to the patient. If she feels all right and wants to see something, let her, man. She’ll rest better afterwards. Where’s your dressing gown, hmm? I’ll get it.’
‘I will,’ Theo said furiously and did, and then helped her put it on, refusing to let the doctor help.
She felt a bit shaky when she stood up, but only for a moment, and then, holding her head in a gingerly fashion to prevent excessive movement that she knew would make it hurt again, she went into the living room, and over to the coffee table, and stood there looking down at it, knowing it had all gone. All except – and then she began to laugh weakly, holding on to the edge of the coffee table, bending almost double to reach it.
‘What is it?’ Theo was all anxiety again, and came and took her by the shoulders and led her back to bed, and she still laughed and the doctor watched from the bedroom door, fascinated.
‘Get my jacket,’ she said at length, when she was sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘I dropped it in here when I came in –’
Reprise Page 16
