When I woke the street lights were shining in. The room was striped and gloomy. I lay shivering, and remembered my dream. I had been in a cave strewn with straw. I was lying in the arms of a fully-grown lioness. She was purring, her face close to mine. Her breath smelled of old meat. I looked at her sleeping eyelids, her eyelashes. Her breaths were deep and long-drawn. We were warm and relaxed lying there together. Her back leg was over me, the paw resting behind my bent knees. I had my arms round her furry neck. Then slowly I realised the danger I was in. I slipped my arms free, and lifted her back leg off. I tried to inch out from underneath her. She reared up, and bared her teeth; her yellow eyes at once wide open. We looked at each other. Then I woke. I recalled staring out from behind the lioness’s eyes into my own face. I sat up. The house was silent. I remembered I was on my own.
In the bathroom I sat on the loo seat, and rested my head on the sink. The tap dripped. In the bath there was a spider, and some blond pubic hairs. I reached down and picked them up. The spider raced for the plughole. I don’t want you, I said. I opened the bathroom window, and let the hairs fly out into the night. The room filled with rain-laden air. I could hear cars swishing past. I wondered where he could be. Who he was with.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and pulled down the neck of my jumper. A dark love bite showed on my neck. And, further down, the shape of his hand. I turned on the shower, and took my clothes off. Four fat, blue bruises like pansies bloomed, two near my collarbone, two on my right breast. My skin sprang into goose bumps. I turned the water to hot, and let the flow drum onto my shoulders. It was easy to cry in the downpour, but I didn’t. My back burned, but still I stood. Then I washed myself clean. I stepped out into the cold air, and put his towelling robe on. I took a box from the cabinet, and opened it. I sat on the toilet, and read the instructions. Then I peed on the stick. Urine gushed warmly onto my fingers. There it was. I watched as a perfect, bright, summer-blue line formed.
I go head over heels
THEN I WAS alone. I was alone for maybe three days, or four. About four, I think. During that time I sat at the bottom of the stairs, and dozed. I wasn’t really alone, in a way. I had the tiny comma inside me that was a baby, though I didn’t feel able to think about it much. Now and then I got up, and drifted round the house. In the kitchen the curry in the sink congealed. I nibbled on the hardened naan bread I’d left by the side of the sofa. I didn’t turn the TV off. I pretended this was an everyday sort of house.
I dragged down the duvet from my bed, and made a sleeping area at the foot of the stairs. I needed to stay by the front door. I had chocolate in my bag, and I rationed it out. I drank plenty of water. At eight thirty every morning the postman came. Each time I thought it was him, coming back to me. I had one letter, from the office. It said they were regretfully terminating my employment. I decided I’d think about that later.
I showered when I saw the sky getting light, and washed my hair. I let it dry naturally. My curls came back, and I didn’t stop them. I put on perfume. I changed my nightgown. Then there was an evening when he turned up and brought some friends with him. He ignored me sitting at the bottom of the stairs. They all walked into the lounge. One of the women went to the kitchen. I could hear her clearing up. They put on music. It sounded like a party.
I thought I should show myself so I went into the lounge. The two women were dancing close together, feeling each other. They were drinking from bottles, swigging lazily. One was laughing, and pushing her leg up into the crotch of the other. He was lying on the sofa, smoking something that created a thick smell, watching the women with his eyes half closed. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His feet were bare. I wondered if I was dreaming perhaps. No one seemed to notice me. I sat in a chair, and wrapped the duvet around me. With his free hand he rubbed his groin slowly.
Even inside the duvet I was cold. I felt I should go to bed. He got up, and they were all dancing together. The women were naked from the waist up. He was squeezing the blond woman’s breasts, making the other woman suck her nipples. I got up, and dragged the duvet round me. I stood in the doorway. He pulled off the blond woman’s skirt, she seemed drunk, floppy. Underneath she was naked. He bent her over the back of the easy chair. He and the other woman started stroking her buttocks. He eased her legs far apart.
They started running their fingers up and down the flesh between her buttocks where it was darker, like a bruise. They slapped her in turn, each time harder. She drooped over the chair back, and lay with her head in the seat cushion, her arms hanging forward. I heard her groan. I watched from the doorway. It looked as if she was asleep. He was holding an empty beer bottle. He gave it to the dark woman. She worked the bottle into the sleeping woman’s anus with both her hands, wiggling it slightly from side to side. She held it against herself, as if it were a penis. He was laughing. I saw the shining bottle inch into her. It stretched her as it went in. She didn’t seem to notice. I heard a tinkling sound. The sleeping woman was urinating down the back of my chair. They left her there with the bottle gaping out of her.
Up in the bedroom the music sounded like a heartbeat, strangely comforting. I lay down on the bed. I couldn’t stop shivering. My jaw was rigid, my teeth vibrated against each other. Then I felt myself drifting away, each pulse of the music pushing me further into a dark, safe place.
I woke up the instant the light was snapped on. Both the women were there. They seemed drunk and happy. He threw back the covers, and pulled me down the bed by my ankles. I screamed as I fell onto the floor. He shouted something I couldn’t understand into my face. I held onto his leg. I asked him to let me stay. He kicked me off. I crawled to the landing. He followed me. The woman was calling him, laughing throatily. I kneeled at his feet. Please let me stay, I said. I kissed his foot. Now you’ve made me really mad, he said quietly. This is your own entire fucking fault. Then he kicked me with all his strength. I was like a sack of old shoes falling down the stairs. I thought about my tiny baby. I pictured her minuscule arm buds flapping, her rudimentary lips sounding, ouch, ouch, ouch. I hoped she was cushioned safely, deep inside.
I bleed publicly
ALISON SAID I ought to eat. She went up to the counter, and ordered poached eggs. We were at a window booth. I took off my wet coat, and rubbed my damp shoulders. My face itched as it dried. Outside the rain fell in a Monday morning way, straight and never-ending. I watched the street. Nothing was happening. In the café they were playing pan pipe versions of songs from The Sound of Music. Alison came back to the table. You’ve got to laugh, she said. I mean, pan pipes. She sat, and undid her mac. Well, don’t hate me, I said, but I actually quite like the sound of pan-pipes. We sang along to ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?’ Appropriate, I said. Alison didn’t smile. Now this one I really love, I said, ‘Edelweiss’. I’m shocked, she said. I never had you down as an ‘Edelweiss’ person.
There was a pause while she took her coat half off. Alison, you don’t know me at all, I said. Come to think of it, I don’t know myself any more. I’m pregnant, I said, and I spelled it out: P–R–E–G–G–E–R–S. Then, because she looked so blank, I said, With sprog, knocked up? You know, bunny in the oveny? I tried to hum ‘I Whistle a Happy Tune’. I could see Alison didn’t recognise it.
OK, she said. That’s it. I’m going to tell your parents. They should know what’s what. I got up to go. If you do that I will never speak to you again, I said. I will never forgive you. Promise me you won’t. But why? she asked. Why not let them care for you? They love you. I told her I knew they did. It’s complicated, I said. All this shit is something I need to sort out myself for once. Or I’ll never grow up. Say you understand? Well, yes, I can see that, she said slowly, and looked at me seriously. Say it, I said. Yes, I promise, she said. But only for the time being. And I’m getting you a doctor’s appointment. That’s not open to negotiation. I sat back down. I got into this, I told her, I know I can get out of it. Kindly, she said nothing.
A waitress brough
t my eggs. I stabbed each trembling egg yolk, and watched as the yellows poured out. Funny, isn’t it? I asked her. We always seem to eat eggs when we meet. She didn’t answer. She hadn’t said anything for a while. You should eat something, she finally said. Go on, please try to eat a few mouthfuls. Her eyes were blurry with tears. She asked if I needed money as she watched me put a bendy piece of egg white on my fork. Before it reached my mouth it slithered off. Saved, I said. More coffee then? she suggested, and got up. I’ll ask them to make it with milk. She looked at my shaking hands, and bit her lip. Won’t be long, she said, and went back to the counter.
I watched her bustling up to the counter. She felt to me like someone I’d known in another dimension. Someone I had loved. When she came back with two mugs of coffee she said it was time I told her what was happening. She busied herself sugaring my drink and stirring it. Drink up first. I opened my mouth. I really wanted to spill the whole story, but somehow I didn’t have enough words. On one level it was all so pitifully predictable. If I laid it all out in front of Alison she would, with her clear blue eyes, evaporate it, sort it so easily that I’d never forgive her. Maybe I wanted to see it as a bit tragic and hugely unique, even though I knew really it wasn’t. Eventually I said, thanks for the offer of moolah, anyway. Money is not the problem.
I told her I had a headache. She found some tablets in her bag. Are these OK for you to have now? she asked, holding the pack away from me. For God’s sake, I said, just hand the stupid things over. After being kicked down the stairs two little tablets are not going to matter. I could probably take the whole box. I’m invincible. Don’t talk like that, she said. My brain was heavy. I felt my forehead was going to fall out. I rested my head in my hands. My God, Alison said, and leaned across to feel my head. Is that what he’s done? Her hand was cool. In the same instant that she touched my skin startlingly bright blood gushed from my nose, and plopped like flat coins onto my plate of messed-up eggs.
I can’t stop myself
IT GAVE ME time to think, that quiet week being alone in my house. I asked myself why I should care about being alone. It was what I wanted, after all. Perhaps he’d left for good. I made a few plans. Very simple ones. Then he came back, and I had to rethink them. I found it difficult; it was as if the section of my brain that knew about good moves for me was talking at cross purposes with the section of my heart that knew about him. Somehow I got things straight.
He behaved as if nothing had happened. Mostly he slept and watched TV. I phoned Alison. Have you got company? Alison asked. I told her I wanted to see her. We agreed to meet soon. Just before she rang off I told her I had a plan. Are you leaving him? she asked. Well, one of us is leaving, put it that way, I said. She asked me what that meant. Wait and see, I said.
I sat down beside him on the settee. He put his arm round my shoulders and began to kiss me. I opened my mouth without thinking. Stand up, he said. Take off your blouse. As I undid the buttons I asked if I should turn off the TV. No, he said, I’m waiting for the football. He told me to take off my trousers. As I undid the zip I felt myself splitting. Part of me drifted up, and hovered over the TV. The other part centred down between my legs. I felt myself beginning to warmly liquefy there.
I moved near him, and pressed my belly towards his mouth. Kiss me, I said. Say you love me. It felt very important that he tell me. Say I love you, I asked him again. No, he said. He pushed my bra up over my breasts, and pressed his index fingers down into the soft centres. How do you feel now? he said. What do you want? Do I make you sick? Tell me. He grabbed the waistband of my knickers, and bunched it up in his hand, pulling it upwards. I toppled nearer to him. Does it hurt you? he asked. I felt the bite of the material as it thinned and tightened, I felt a dull pulse in my anus. Do you like it? he said. Yes, I said, I do. You can’t do without me, can you, poor baby? he said. You need me. I think I’ll come back for good. You know, and never, ever leave. I know that’s what you really want.
Without letting go he undid his trousers, and let them fall. I pulled his prick free. I wanted to bite it hard. No you don’t, he said. He pushed me, and I lay back on the settee. Do it now, I said into his blond hair. He manoeuvred the taut material to one side, and forced his penis in through the narrow gap. It hurts, he said, and pulled harder. As we came he said, Look at me, watch me. But I clutched his hair and stared at my other self, my floating self. I thought, She must pity me. She reminded me of my plan just by floating there.
I dig without due care
I LAY AWAKE the following morning. When it was six o’clock it was time to get out of bed. I wanted to do it without disturbing him. He lay on his back, his leg resting across my thighs. I began to push him off. He muttered, then turned to lie on his side facing me. He flung his arm across my breasts. I lay still, and breathed as shallowly as I could. His head was resting on my hair, tugging at the roots. I pulled it out from under him smoothly. I thought I should wait for a while, but it was already beginning to get light. I could hear the birds waking up. I watched him sleeping. I kissed his mouth. It felt cool and gentle. Sweet dreams, I whispered into his ear. I inched out of the bed, and closed the bedroom door softly.
It took me some while to find the back door key. All the time I listened for any sounds from upstairs. He had drunk a lot last night so I felt safe. On the patio the paving was damp under my bare feet, like the skin on a reptile’s back. I had forgotten my robe. Misty air drifted pleasantly over my naked arms as I searched behind some big pots for the trowel. It was starting to rain mistily. There was a strong, unfamiliar, early smell of earth and trees. I kneeled down, and began to dig choppily under the laurel bush. Crumbled mud sprayed onto my nightdress. It started to rain. I could hear heavy drops striking the broad leaves above me.
Eventually I pulled out the red box. The painted surface was already beginning to bubble up. It felt heavy and chilled as I rested it on my knees. I crouched in amongst the laurel leaves, turned the thin, filigree key in the lock, and opened the lid. I took out the plastic bag. With my soiled fingers I fingered the wad of notes through the opaque plastic. I began to sob silently. It felt as if I’d found the door to another world, and it was swinging silently open. I stood up and stepped out of the laurel.
He was waiting for me, his hair sleep-rummaged. You bitch, he said, and grabbed the bag from me. You sly little bitch. He rummaged in the bag. You’ve been stealing from me, he shouted. I almost laughed it was so untrue. Then I screamed that he was a liar. That I had always paid for everything. I watched as he swung his arm back, and with full force smacked my face. The sound of his palm thumping my ear and cheekbone was not the sound I’d heard in films. I fell heavily on to my knees. I was blinded, as if the blow had knocked both of my eyes out onto the paving slabs. I rested on all fours, my jaw felt as if it was flapping like a snapped hinge. He walked away across the patio, slamming the door behind him. He took all my money with him.
I feel empty sometimes
AFTER I’D BATHED my cuts I put some make-up on. My face in the mirror didn’t recognise me. She had different eyes from the eyes I’d always thought I’d had. Her hair was thinner and flatter than mine. She had a disappointed mouth. Then I couldn’t get warm, couldn’t stay in the house. She lived there, not me. I walked into town. I’d forgotten how long it took. Grit and old wrappers spun around in the wind. People were doing busy things in the main street, going in and out of shops. I wondered what they could find to do. I bumped into Alison. She said she was on her lunch hour, and told me she’d heard a rumour that I’d been sacked. We went into a sandwich shop. She bought me something to eat and drink. I couldn’t chew anything.
Alison held both my hands. What’s happened to your face? He’s done this to you, hasn’t he? This is all completely out of hand, she said, her eyes filling with tears. I felt so sorry for her, but I couldn’t speak. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I can guess anyway. Listen to me, she said. You must come and stay with us. Tom won’t mind you staying in the
spare room. You know how good he is in a crisis. I told her I had to go home. I could have screamed, there in the café, as I thought about the empty red box upside down on the wet patio slabs. But why, she said, why do have you to? I don’t understand you. I should probably go to the police. It looks as if you won’t do anything to protect yourself. Why must you go back to him again? I just do, I said. It’s hard to explain. I got up from the table. You haven’t eaten anything, she said, and started to cry. Please don’t, I said. I felt as if I were looking down at her from somewhere shifting and precarious. I know what to do now, I said. Again, what the hell does that mean? she said.
I caught the bus home. As I walked down the garden path I could see the front door was ajar. I pushed through, and walked down the hall. The house had a hollow feeling. Cold air rushed through the rooms. I went into the lounge. All that was left was the TV table and the pee-stained easy chair. A glass vase lay on its belly in the fireplace. Some news papers lifted and fell with the sound of someone shuffling around in old slippers. I perched on the edge of the chair and looked into the dining room. The table was gone. One chair stood in the middle of the room.
I made an effort to climb the stairs. Only the bed remained in my room. The contents of the chest of drawers and my wardrobe had been dumped in the corner. There was a note stuck to the headboard with chewing gum. It said: Have run into some aggro. Needed to create cash fast. Furniture all crap anyway. See you. I got into bed, and pulled the fusty covers over me. I thought I should sleep while I waited.
True Things About Me Page 12
