by Adele Parks
Fuck.
Ted got out of the shower. He left large footprints on the marble floor. He barely noticed that the tiles were underheated because Ted and Kate had the same at home. Underfloor heating cost a small fortune, but Kate didn’t like radiators. She’d read somewhere that they ruined chi. So, last year they removed all twenty Bisque radiators which they’d had installed throughout the house in 2001, installing underfloor heating instead.
Fuck.
Ted had stared at his heavy footprints and found them a comfort. Sometimes, recently, he worried that he’d disappeared. He’d towel-dried himself with the Egyptian cotton bath sheets, which took a long time because he was a very hairy man. As a teenager, he had grown pubes and hair on his chest and legs long before anyone else. He’d been very proud of his hirsute state and enjoyed walking naked around the locker changing rooms. He loved being so manly when the majority of the others were clearly still boys, with high balls and bare chests. He hated to admit it now, but he used to whip the hairless boys with wet towels. Not that Ted was a particular bully, far from it; it was simply the done thing at his school. No one complained.
Now Ted had hairy arms, back and shoulders. He even had hairs spouting from his nose, ears and on the back of his hands. He had grown into Mia’s nickname. He’d become a large, rotund teddy bear. Ted read a disproportionately large amount of articles about how women find excessive hair growth a turn-off. He’d worry about that, except Kate had never complained.
Kate didn’t complain about things like that. About how he looked, or even the things he said. She was very easygoing on him. She swore it was because she loved him and thought he was perfect. But Ted didn’t need to look at his reflection in the mirror this morning to know that he wasn’t perfect. How could she love him? Really love him? She might love the Ted Lewis-Ponsonby package, i.e. the huge three-storey mansion in Holland Park and the converted farmhouse in Bordeaux, the Jaguar, the Range Rover, the private schools, private health care, the full-time housekeeper, the designer wardrobe and the half a dozen holidays a year. The chubby thighs, the paunchy belly, the thinning hair and the slimming conversation were accepted as part of that package.
They would not stand alone.
Ted was thinking all of this as he sat with Lloyd on the mountainside. He did not turn to face Lloyd. He did not want to catch his eye. He needn’t have worried. Lloyd was well aware that this was a very personal conversation, and therefore he had no intention of looking directly at Ted either. Guys only met one another’s eyes when they were on safe ground, such as when they were discussing bottled-beer preferences or horsepower.
‘Things OK?’ asked Lloyd.
He racked his brains as to what might possibly not be OK in Ted and Kate’s world. He was clueless. Ted’s parents were both healthy and lived very comfortably in their old pile in Suffolk. He knew that Kate’s mother was well because last night she was saying that they had just bought her a house in the Cotswolds, for her to retire to. As far as he knew, the kids were doing fine at school. What could be wrong? Could Ted be ill? Lloyd stole a glance.
Christ, it was possible. He looked crap. Fat and sallow-skinned. Lloyd felt concern rising through his body, his heartbeat quickening. He’d been so engrossed in his own problems that he hadn’t noticed.
‘Are you ill?’ he demanded.
‘No, not ill,’ sighed Ted. Lloyd raced through other possible explanations. Something was very clearly amiss. What could it be? And then suddenly he knew. Of course. It appalled him, possibly more than the idea of Ted being ill. Of course, that’s why Ted had chosen to confide in Lloyd. That was the thing everyone confided in Lloyd, and he was sick of it.
Ted was playing away.
God, it disgusted him that so many people thought that just because he’d once been indiscreet they could unburden their sordid tales to him. He didn’t want to know if Ted was having an affair. He couldn’t have cared less. It wasn’t romantic, or amazing, or clever, or even different. And he should know. Lloyd turned to Ted to say as much, but something stopped him. Ted’s eyes were fractured with worry, not bright with passion. His body was bloated with indifference, not taut with illicit pleasure. His face was a maze of anxious wrinkles. He did not look like a man in the middle of a fevered dangerous liaison.
‘What’s the matter, buddy?’
And Ted wanted to tell him, as he’d wanted to tell Kate for several months now. The problem was that he couldn’t find the words. He wanted to unburden himself. Just by blurting out his secret he would feel better, surely. Perhaps if he confided in Lloyd, Lloyd could be the one to talk to Kate. Maybe it would be better if this kind of thing came from a third person. But maybe not.
He’d let Kate down. Brutally. Dismally. Completely. He could not imagine a way in which he could put things right. He’d lain awake night after night coming up with plan after impossible plan to try to fix things. They were fantasies, not solutions. The very least he owed her was a bit of directness. Ted had to talk to Kate before he talked to anyone else.
‘Nothing’s the matter. I’m cool.’ Ted forced his mouth into, if not a smile, then at least a line. ‘In fact, I’m not just cool, I’m cold,’ he joked weakly. ‘Let’s get going again.’ And before Lloyd could quiz him further, Ted was up and away down the slope.
Lloyd sighed, relieved. Thank God everything was OK with Ted and Kate. Their OK-ness was a given. An absolute. A necessity. Hearing that they were in the slightest bit shaky was tantamount to declaring a disbelief in sunny childhoods or happy endings. And Lloyd more than anyone needed to believe in happy endings.
Lloyd launched himself down the slope after Ted. He swept to the left and to the right, and then left again. He was pleased with his speed and technique. That was the amazing thing about snow. Every year he forgot just how fabulous it felt to be up on the slopes until he was there, and it made him feel fantastic. So bloody strong and in control. This was a tricky run, and only the extremely competent skiers even attempted it, so it was genuinely peaceful. It was possible to get to quite a speed and just enjoy the velocity without worrying about bumping into gaggles of boisterous novices from the ski schools.
Lloyd smiled to himself. Of course the gang wanted him to be here, why else would Rich have asked him? My God, he was beginning to be as paranoid as Sophie. Well, he felt welcome; he was relaxed. These were his people. This holiday was going to be the perfect antidote to the heavy days he’d endured of late.
Lloyd spotted Ted just ahead of him. A slither of competitive spirit glided up his spine. Ted didn’t look as confident on his skis as Lloyd did, even though Ted had skied since he was a child. This black run was clearly too much of a challenge, as Ted was beginning to wobble. He was a bit close to the edge there. Was he going to recover it? Lloyd’s delight at being the better skier instantly turned to fear that his friend was in real trouble.
Lloyd started to speed up and head towards Ted – although, through experience, he knew that he couldn’t really do anything to help. In a split second Ted managed to pull himself away from the crevasse, but he’d taken the turn too suddenly. He panicked and fell head over heels. Ted landed with a violent thud. Even from a few hundred yards away Lloyd could see it wasn’t good. Ted’s ankle was twisted underneath him. The ski on that foot was still attached. Although his poles were splayed at a distance, and the other ski had flown over the edge. It was unlikely that they’d be able to rescue it, but more worryingly it showed Lloyd just how close a call the fall had been. Lloyd skied to a halt next to Ted.
‘Ted, buddy, are you all right? Shit, that looked nasty.’
Ted nodded, but said nothing. Lloyd looked around for help. A couple of other skiers were heading towards them, to see if they could assist.
‘Didn’t you see how close you were?’ he asked. His tone was that of an angry parent ticking off a child for wandering away from the trolley in the supermarket, a collision of emotion, relief and fear. Ted remained silent and wouldn’t look at Lloyd. Instead, he sat
up in the snow and slowly inched his leg from out beneath him. Lloyd decided that the best course of action was to recover the lost poles. Having done so, he returned to Ted and the small crowd of two or three skiers that were standing around being, in varying degrees, useful. One of them had a walkie-talkie and was radioing for help.
‘Where does it hurt?’ asked Lloyd. It was an automatic question – clearly the twisted ankle was causing Ted’s face to curl in pain. ‘Can you move it?’
Ted moved his leg, then rotated his foot.
And then he let out a wail. It wasn’t a wail of pain, more of despair. Lloyd was shocked and didn’t know what to say.
‘Come on, old chap, buck up. We’ll get you down from here.’ He bent down to pat his friend on the back. He was embarrassed for him. There were strangers standing close by, and Ted was wailing like a baby.
‘It’s shock,’ explained Lloyd to the others.
One woman was wearing a rucksack; she opened it and produced a big bar of chocolate. She broke off a slab and offered it to Ted. He didn’t even acknowledge her or her chocolate.
‘It’s OK, Ted. It’s not broken.’ But Lloyd’s words of consolation couldn’t help. Ted began to sob. They were deep sobs that shook his massive six-foot-two frame and made him suddenly appear like a child. Tears, actual tears, began to pour down his face. Lloyd was stunned. He’d never seen Ted cry. None of the guys cried. Well, except for Jase when he went through that stage of doing drugs as a sort of hobby. He’d insisted that it was part of his job description. He’d had a few particularly hairy trips and come down crying. But that was chemical, not emotional.
‘Mate, get a grip. It’s not broken, you’re just shocked.’
‘No, I’m not,’ insisted Ted. ‘I’m ruined. I’m fucking ruined.’ And then he fell back into the snow and lay staring at the blue sky while he howled like an animal.
34. Kicking Back
Tash eased her feet out of her boots and wiggled her toes. She edged down her waterproof trousers and protective padding. The relief was enormous – she felt like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. However cosy it was in that cocoon, nothing felt better than a good stretch. She reached for the ceiling, then bent at the waist and allowed her upper body to flop forwards. She could comfortably place her hands flat on the floor, while keeping her legs straight. She practised yoga at least four times a week, which left her supple and flexible. It was a hobby Rich encouraged. Tash stretched for about ten minutes, finishing with a stretch into the mini bar to retrieve a packet of peanut M&Ms before she collapsed on to the huge bed, still dressed in thermal long johns, vest and socks.
Tash smiled to herself. Life was good. She’d had a fantastic morning in the snow with Jayne. They’d had a real giggle. Jayne was so sweet and interested. They hadn’t got round to talking about Jayne’s ex because all Jayne did was direct the conversation back to Tash the entire time. That was a sign of good breeding, genuine manners. Jayne seemed to be fascinated by everything Tash had to say. She wanted to know what schools Tash went to, where she bought her clothes, which gym she was a member at – everything including her favourite sandwich filling. And they’d covered some miles, until Tash had lost Jayne. Jayne was so much faster, they’d somehow lost sight of one another. Tash was exhausted.
The hotel changed the sheets every day, and yet as she lay on the bed a memory of Rich’s lovemaking, the night before, seeped into Tash’s mind.
Since meeting one another, Tash and Rich had made love in every imaginable way. Sometimes slowly, carefully, respectfully and sometimes hurriedly, frantically, filthily. They were daring, imaginative and experienced lovers, so they had naturally swung from one position to another, one location to the next. They prided themselves on ticking off ‘firsts’ – their first time in the open air, the first time in a train – and they christened every room in both their flats, utilizing every surface that was sturdy enough to take their weight. They would fall on to a chair, the bed, the stairs, up against a wall, and vigorously kiss one another over and over again. Naturally interweaving their limbs so that it became difficult to know where each body started and finished. Their hands, tongues and lips would race to rediscover every part of one another’s bodies.
Naturally, he knew the curve of her breast and the fit between her thighs as well as she knew his penis, balls and buttocks, but they also knew every other inch of one another’s bodies. Many times he’d traced the fine blue veins that ran down the back of her knees. He’d sucked each of her toes. He’d kissed, lapped and caressed every vertebra on her spine, the mole on her ribcage and the cuticles of her fingernails. And she had explored the mounds, the ridges, the sinew and tissue that curved to form his thighs, the crook of his elbow, the bridge of his nose, the knuckles on his hands. They knew the smooth bits, the soft bits, the hard bits, the tender bits of each other’s bodies.
And yet last night had been different again. Quite a different sort of first.
Last night Rich had made love to Tash with a new intensity. He was always a considerate and accomplished lover. One who gave her great pleasure, somehow managing to combine familiarity and joyful surprises, shocking eroticism with a sense of wellbeing and peace. But last night as he entered her, he took her head in both his hands and stared at her. His look was strong, vibrant and purposeful. His lovemaking confirmed that he loved her and acknowledged that she loved him back. His raw, searching gaze was trying to communicate something more, trying to ask for something more. He knew her, and he was begging her to know him. To know him and to love him still.
Wordlessly, Tash had reacted to his needs. She tightened the muscles in her thighs and groin and held on to him. He moved leisurely and deftly, then more rapidly and vigorously. Nothing mattered except the two of them, at that moment, on that bed. She came. He came. They waited and repeated everything all over again. After the second time, the recovery took longer, but despite his exhaustion and her rawness he climbed back on top of her and started over. They bounced through their orgasms, falling, springing and shuddering.
‘I want to stay here for ever,’ he told her, ‘just here.’ A drop of his sweat fell from his nose and splashed on to her face. She blinked to stop it going in her eye. ‘I want to be joined to you. To be inseparable.’
‘We are inseparable,’ she assured him, and Tash trembled with joy at having found something so perfect.
What were the odds? Logistically everything was set against finding such perfection. The world was awash with hazards and miscommunications, pressures and lost opportunities that conspired to take you away from such happiness. But in that moment Tash enjoyed a bit of heaven on earth, and she had no reason to believe that it would be anything other than endless.
There was a knock at the door which startled Tash from her luxuriant memories.
‘It’s me, Jayne.’
Tash ran to the door and flung it open. ‘Hi, I lost you.’
‘Yes, but I found Jason.’
‘Was he with Rich?’
‘Yes. Rich was there, too, being all macho and gorgeous. Darling, he is a beauty.’ Tash grinned. She knew that Jayne was the type of girl to scatter compliments liberally, but it was always good to hear nice things being said of Rich. ‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’
‘Not at all. I was lying here thinking life is pretty damn perfect and that can’t be improved upon except by a bit of company.’
‘You are so lucky.’ Jayne forced out a small smile as she entered the room. Tash mentally kicked herself. It wasn’t exactly tactful to gloat about just how perfect your life was to someone who had just split up from their boyfriend. ‘Listen, darling, I’ve booked us both into the spa. I’m going to have one of those mud wraps that promise to make me disappear.’
‘There’s not a picking on you,’ Tash pointed out, as Jayne knew she would. No matter how often it was said, she always liked to hear it again.
‘Thanks. And I’ve booked you a massage. Then we are both having manicures and, if there’s time, ped
icures.’
‘My God, that’s amazing. I was planning on getting all this stuff done, but I hadn’t got round to booking anything. I was sort of imagining I’d get a last-minute appointment on Thursday.’
‘You can’t leave anything to chance in these matters,’ scolded Jayne. ‘It’s too important. What if there aren’t any appointments on Thursday? That would be so tragic.’
Tash was sure she’d have managed, even if there hadn’t been any pre-wedding pampering. She couldn’t imagine Rich calling the whole thing off because her bikini line wasn’t neat, but like any woman she was thrilled by the prospect of spending a couple of hours in the beautician’s. ‘I’ll have to give you some cash. I couldn’t possibly let you pay,’ said Tash, as she darted around the room looking for her swimming costume and bathrobe.
‘Oh, don’t worry. I put it all on Ted’s room account. Big bruv is so stacked that he can treat us. Think of it as a wedding pressie.’
‘No, I couldn’t,’ said Tash, embarrassed. ‘Ted and Kate have already been crazily generous. They’ve offered to buy all the drink at the reception, and Kate has ordered vintage champagne. Plus they spent nearly 600 quid on bedding for our flat. Can you imagine 600 quid on sheets and stuff? I can’t thank them enough as it is.’
Tash was ready; she picked up her key and followed Jayne out the door, making a mental note to herself to swap the cost of the treatments to her room bill.
35. Hot Water
Jayne watched Tash dip her toe into the hot tub. They’d been asked to relax there until the beauticians were ready to begin the treatments. Tash’s limbs were long, lithe and lily white. Her toe broke the surface of the water and sent ripples to the edge of the tub. For some reason, the unwelcome image of Rich’s cock sinking into Tash clambered into Jayne’s head. She fought it off. The droplets of water glistened on Tash’s shoulder, and Jayne wondered if Tash perspired a lot when she had sex with Rich. Tash had pinned her hair in a chaotic up do, but one or two rebellious strands were insisting on tumbling down about her face. The strands of hair looked like fingers, and Jayne thought of Rich tenderly cupping Tash’s chin as he leant in to kiss her lips.
