by Maynard Sims
In the cramped changing room, Bella stripped off, admiring her tight body in the mirror, and pulled the dress on over her head. It looked good on her, naturally, and the colours accentuated her eyes. She pushed open the door and stepped out so that she could look at herself in the full-length mirror outside.
‘It really suits you,’ the assistant said.
Bella looked at her but said nothing. The dress did suit her, fitting her curves adoringly, but then, she had a body that looked good in anything.
‘I’ll take it,’ she said, and unzipped it before letting it cascade to the floor. She stepped out of it and turned to the girl so that her full, beautiful near-nakedness could be admired. I look like you’ll never be able to look.
When she got to the till to pay, the dress was bagged up and waiting for her. The girl looked as if she was lucky to have been allowed to serve Bella, and the haughty manner with which the credit card was offered and retrieved did little to allay that.
Outside the shop, Bella decided she needed a coffee and perhaps some cake to celebrate. There was a coffee chain on the next level of the shopping mall, with chairs set outside as if it was a Parisian street café, and Bella strolled to the escalators.
By the top of the down-escalator, a homeless man was slumped, a cardboard sign with smudged, misspelt writing pleading for coins. The man seemed to be asleep as Bella stepped over him, but a grimy hand snaked out and grasped her ankle.
‘Get off me, you…’
She was sure the filthy palm would leave a dirty imprint on her bare leg as she wrenched away from him.
‘How dare you.’
‘Spare some change.’
Bella looked around, but the mall wasn’t busy this time in the morning. She kicked out and sent the plastic pot of loose change scattering over the floor.
‘Security should move you on,’ she said, and stepped elegantly onto the escalator.
As she descended, and the man disappeared from view, she didn’t quite realise what the feeling was that seemed to centre in her chest. Perhaps it was remorse, but she thought it more likely to be disgust at the way the man’s face crumpled in tears as it slid from view.
***
Carlo didn’t look back once he’d left Eddie. Someone was waiting for him in his room, and he didn’t want to keep them waiting much longer. He didn’t think they’d leave, but there was always the chance that their patience wasn’t as strong as he hoped it was. There was equally a chance that their lust for him wasn’t as deep as he wanted it to be.
He’d known Eddie was lying, and known he would do so as soon as the question was asked. How did he know? Easy – Amy had told him.
He reached the building that housed his room, and pushed open the door. There were several other students loitering, and often he would have liked nothing better than to stop and chat, have a coffee or a beer with them. Now he had more pressing business.
He took the stairs two at a time but was barely out of breath by the time he reached the third floor. He walked along the corridor and stood in front of his door. There were no sounds coming out from inside, but that didn’t mean the room was empty. Very often his visitor didn’t make much sound, neither playing music nor listening to the television. It was one of the many traits they shared, the mutual love of silence.
The door shut behind him and he called out their name.
‘In the bedroom.’
He threw down his back-pack and kicked off his shoes. The bedroom door was closed, but when he opened it, the scent of candles wafted up into the air. The curtains were drawn, and in fact there was music playing, soft and low, just loud enough to be heard by people in the room.
‘Have you been waiting long?’ he asked.
‘Take off your clothes.’
He hopped out of his trousers and pulled his top over his head.
The girl in his bed pushed back the covers and sat, naked from the waist up, her arms outstretched for him. He slid alongside her and they met in a fusion of lips and tongues.
As he pulled away from her, before a deeper embrace, he felt a stab of something that he suspected might be guilt.
***
Amy knew she should stop seeing Eddie, but she didn’t want to disturb the dynamic of the group. Not yet, anyway. There was time enough for that as the natural flow of their individual lives gave impetus to the breaking of the configurations that had been forged over the past couple of years.
It was getting harder each week to keep him at bay, keep his ardour in check. There were only so many ways she could rebuff him before he saw it for the rejection it really was. If it wasn’t for her regular assignations, she didn’t know what she would do.
She didn’t have any more lectures for the day, and she knew his timetable pretty much echoed hers. There was every chance he wouldn’t be there, would have gone off elsewhere, with other people, but it was a chance worth taking.
She had her own key to his room, and she used it. The place was still and empty without him in it. There was a low ticking of a clock, a sound that reminded her of her grandparents’ house in the country, where the dust motes danced in time with the tick-tock of the large mantel clock. The view out of the window was a good one, overlooking the grass quadrangle and the old church with its leaning gravestones and dark green yew.
She made herself a cup of tea and took it through to the bedroom, where she undressed quickly. It was warm, and she sat comfortably on the bed while she sipped the hot drink. A book lay upturned on the bedside table, and she picked it up to see what he was reading. No surprise, it was an erotic novel; his tastes had always been diverse for as long as she’d known him.
She lit some candles, closed the curtains, and fumbled for some peace of mind.
When her cup was empty, she got into bed, pleased to smell the fresh sheets, and pulled the duvet cover up to her neck. She wondered how long he would be, if he would be here at all, but she was happy to just lie with her eyes closed, listening to the solitude.
She heard the door to the rooms open and heard him call out her name.
‘In the bedroom,’ she called.
His smile was reward for having made the effort to be here.
‘Take off your clothes,’ she said, and flung back the duvet as far as it would go so that he could savour her nakedness.
The speed with which he shed his clothes told her that he was as eager as she was. When they kissed, her mind blanked out everything else. She didn’t think she was being unfaithful. The emotion that reverberated inside her was a mixture of the lust she was enjoying and the uncertainty of what she was becoming.
***
Eddie struggled back with the second hamper, and I made much of standing and helping him place it carefully on the edge of the blankets. He nodded his thanks, which were muted given the way none of us offered any help when he needed it.
Between us we unloaded the hamper, mainly cakes and bottles, and spread everything haphazardly over the already crowded blankets. I saw Eddie scowl at Amy, who was still twirling and spinning, lost to her own private rhythms.
‘Want a drink, Amy?’ Eddie called to her, but it was as if she didn’t hear him, or perhaps she chose to ignore him; either way, he was left with his arm outstretched, glass in his hand, before he lowered it to his side, casually, as if that was what he intended all along.
‘I’ll take it,’ I said, and reached out for the glass.
‘No, it’s okay,’ he said, and drained the glass in one long swallow. His cheeks were getting red, I noticed, and it wasn’t from exposure to the sun.
Carlo was watching Amy a little too closely, and although Eddie was too preoccupied with his solemn sulking to see it, I didn’t expect Bella to let it pass without comment.
‘Should I join her?’ I heard Bella say to Carlo, quietly, but she looked at me as she spoke.
‘Sure,’ Carlo said, unaware of the unexploded content of her words.
‘Only I wo
ndered if you might notice me if I was next to her?’
Carlo spun round and reached for her, but she pulled away. With a single, sinuous movement she was on her feet. ‘I’m going to the stream,’ she said.
Carlo tried to stand to follow her, but he got his feet caught in the rucked-up edge of the blanket and stumbled.
‘Stay and have another drink,’ Eddie said.
Half seated, half on bended knee, Carlo yielded to the inevitable and sank back down.
‘Good man,’ Eddie said, and between them they opened another bottle from the second hamper.
I watched as Amy followed Bella, and guessed the girls were going to paddle their feet in the cool stream.
I stayed with the boys for a while, watching them drink, experiencing them ignore me, realising I should feel isolated or hurt, but instead finding I was filled with anticipation.
They didn’t notice when I stood and walked down to the stream.
Amy and Bella were waist deep in the water when I reached the grassy bank. I sat and watched them for while, saddened by their innocent and joyful play. They splashed water at one another, and eventually Bella sank lower, until just her head was above the surface, and she was swimming.
‘Aren’t you worried your dress is soaked,’ I called to her.
She looked at me and smiled. I saw movement beneath the water, and then she half jumped up and threw something wet at my feet. It was her dress.
‘Lay it out for me,’ she said. ‘The sun will soon dry it.’
‘What about you, Amy?’ I said.
‘I’ll need help with the zip.’
I pulled off my top, left my shorts on, and waded into the water, which was colder than I thought it would be.
Bella was swimming in lazy circles but Amy was stood still, waiting for me. I walked behind her and caught hold of the top of her dress. I pretended to struggle with it.
‘He can’t do it.’ Amy laughed, and I knew I would be excluded by these two as well if the opportunity ever arose.
Bella swam over to us, and stood beside me, flicking her wet hair away from her eyes.
‘Here, let me,’ she said.
I moved slightly away from them, and watched as Bella began to unzip Amy’s dress. While they were both distracted I made my move; I took my chance. I suppose I should say it was all part of my laid-out plan, but this part wasn’t. It was taking the opportunity that had been presented to me.
They struggled more than I thought they would, but with Amy’s arms trapped by her dress, and with Bella already tired from her efforts at swimming, I was too strong for them, even both of them together.
I removed Amy’s dress when I was finished.
Back on the shore, I laid the two dresses out to dry. On the surface of the sun-speckled stream, the two pale bodies floated in silent and serene symmetry.
Eddie and Carlo were quiet when I got back beneath the oak tree, but then, the bottles they had consumed were laced with something quite astonishingly strong and very fast-acting. They looked as if they were sleeping, one on his back and the other on his front. Spilled glasses dangled from unmoving fingers.
So perhaps I might have been a little economical with the truth when I said that one of us would die before the day was out. The others weren’t expecting it, but I always knew it would have to be like this.
I may be the one who least deserves the terminal fate, but as they were so determined the group should evaporate, and I was so sure it had to remain united, this seemed to be the only solution.
I expect we’ll be discovered, in time, and possibly theories about why we all died together will be discussed. I doubt any of them will find the real reason.
As I lie down beneath the embracing tree, and feel the last of the sun’s warmth on my face, I just know that we all had to stay together. And now we shall.
I HEAR HIS FOOTSTEPS DRAWING NEAR
Her mother always told her she looked elegant dressed in black. At her father’s funeral, those few short years ago, Grace wasn’t concerned how she appeared to others, so stricken with grief was she at the loss of such a wonderful man. She shared a special relationship with him, as an only daughter so often can with a doting father, and she still felt his presence every day.
So why, she wondered silently as she sat in the rear of the funeral car, did she not feel quite the same at her husband’s funeral?
The door of the luxury limousine opened, and the attentive funeral director leaned partway in.
'We’re ready to go in, if you’re prepared.'
How could Grace be prepared for what had happened to her? A widow at thirty-seven. A twelve-year-old daughter distraught, and facing a future without a loving father’s guiding hand through life, including the imminent, and sometimes troublesome, teenage years. There had been no preparation for that in her past experiences. Certainly her mother had never had the foresight to speak with her about such an event, despite her opinion being strong on most matters in Grace’s life, whether they concerned her or not. Yet, how could anyone anticipate a happy marriage, a satisfying life, being halted so abruptly?
Grace nodded at the funeral director, and then looked at her mother, if not for approval, then for reassurance. She had learned the hard way that even when Susan was wrong, as was often the case, it was still best to let her have her way. It led to an easier atmosphere all round, less friction.
'Are you ready, Molly?' Susan said to her granddaughter.
Molly was staring out of the window on her side of the car. There was a large crowd of people waiting outside the church. She recognised some of the faces, people her father worked with, some family members, but mostly the facial features were a blur. It was just a sea of skin tones and hair colour she looked at. Dressed for the most part in dark clothing, the crowd might have been a mass of seaweed washed up on a beach.
'I’m not going to cry,' Molly said. She flung her long, blonde hair over her shoulders as she spoke, an act that tried for nonchalance.
Susan made a low sound in her throat that Grace knew was disapproval, but she was ridiculously grateful that at least her mother hadn’t spoken her thoughts aloud.
'Come on then,' Grace said. 'They are waiting for us.'
She stepped out of the car. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel grief about Simon, of course she did, but it was tempered, despite herself, with an anger about him dying. It was her first thought when she had been told he was dead: how could you?
The church was the one where they were married, fourteen – no, fifteen – years ago. A glorious day; she had never been happier. They were young, and in love, and the world opened up to them as if it was their right, and occasionally it felt as if it was. She still remembered the ride to the church in the horse-drawn carriage, her father with tears in his eyes, trying to stay composed as he told her his feelings for her, and how she would always be his little girl, even when she was married and living with her new family.
Grace watched, detached, as Susan fussed over Molly, adjusting her outfit, as if it mattered at all what she looked like. If the woman spent more care over how they felt, she might make a better mother and grandmother, but it was too late for that now.
She frowned as Susan picked a long, auburn hair from Molly’s shoulder. Where had that come from? They were all blonde, though recently Grace, and certainly Susan, used colouring to retain a natural appearance.
Molly took the arm of both Grace and Susan, as if she knew instinctively that she was the conduit between them. Side by side, they walked into the cold church and took their places at the front. The milling throng of people, family, friends, acquaintances, filed dutifully in, and gradually the church filled up. Simon had clearly been popular, in his own way.
The vicar approached and said a few words to the three women, but in truth Grace barely registered a word of what he had spoken. Her mind was back to her wedding day, and the time she spent standing not far from where she now sat, speaking the vow
s she had kept, her voice breaking on more than one occasion, as the emotion of the day threatened to overwhelm her. She felt slightly more in control of her feelings today.
Susan stood and waved at a couple Grace thought were an aunt and uncle. She wouldn’t have put it past her mother to have called out to them, but she was spared that indignity, at least.
She took Molly’s hand and gently squeezed it. She was rewarded with a light pressure in return, and a weak smile. As promised, there appeared to be no tears in her daughter’s eyes, but it was still quite early. Grace had a supply of tissues at the ready, and knew that at some point she would need them for herself as well as for Molly.
The vicar asked them all to stand, and as the noise of people rising from their seats echoed around the solemn walls, the coffin was carried, shoulder high, along the aisle. Simon’s brother, Martin, was one of the men tasked with the duty, his face serious and grey. He had taken the death of his brother very hard indeed. Grace had chided herself for the unkind thought that the business the two brothers jointly ran wouldn’t be the success it had been any longer, not without the driving force behind it, but she knew Martin was genuinely fond of his older brother.
The coffin was placed onto the wooden pedestal, and the music that had played during the entrance faded away. It was something classical that Simon had liked. The men bowed their heads, turned and walked away. Grace stood, and with Molly at her side, she placed a photograph and some flowers on the top of the coffin. The photo was one from last year’s holiday: a smiling face on a beach, a glass of something exotic and cooling in one hand, a mobile phone in the other. Holidays were regular, but generally included work of some sort being done.
When everyone was seated, the vicar welcomed them all.
'We are here to celebrate the life of Simon Randolph Bliss. Beloved son, brother, husband and father. We will begin by singing our first hymn, which can be found in the order of service you all should have. All Things Bright and Beautiful.'
