‘So there is no way she could be bluffing, just to get you into bed?’ she said, clutching at straws, trying to keep something alive when she knew she shouldn’t.
‘While either of us is still here the danger will exist.’
‘And this one she is after, the one she hasn’t yet seduced. My assumption, since you’ve told me about it, is that it is my husband.’
He didn’t look at her. He seemed to know that a straight affirmation would be like a dagger to her heart. ‘You can see why I have to go and take her with me, can’t you?’ he finally said.
Nesta should have been thankful. Just that one lurching gut-reaction to hearing that Eva had spotted her leaving his house should have told her that this was something she did not want in her life. She should have been glad that the regret had not come when it was already way too late. She would have to bury her betrayal and make up for it secretly, in any way she could. She should make sure she was as kind and compassionate as her husband always was to her, and never give any hint that this was down to guilt. At the moment though, all she could feel was sadness. It was like she was losing everything. She leant into him, resigned, with her head on his shoulder, clutching at his hand.
‘It’s a bad day all round,’ she said. ‘I was meant to book a spa day for me and Roni. We treat ourselves once a year, just the two of us. They send us vouchers. Anyway, I’ve had other things, other people on my mind, and I forgot to do it until this morning. Now they are all booked up, which they were bound to be at a fortnight’s notice at this time of the year, which means Roni’s not going to be best pleased. She knows about us too, by the way. I didn’t tell her - I swear. She just guessed. I’m clearly not very good at this keeping secrets lark. She wouldn’t ever let on to anyone. I think she is actually quite pleased for me. She even said she felt jealous - of the both of us! That shocked me a little. Roni is the last person to be so forward. I put such things down to the Hunter Effect. You seem to have turned all of us into hussies!’
He smiled, as always. ‘Don’t worry about your trip, I’ll sort something. I have contacts in the spa world. We can’t have you two girls missing your yearly fun. Give me the date and consider it arranged.’
‘Thank you, strange Ex-Army Man Who Randomly Has Friends High Up in the Health Resort Business, but we get our day at greatly discounted prices and with lots of things thrown in. No offence, but I don’t think you have the negotiation skills to get it at a price I’m willing to pay.’
‘Who said anything about payment? Think of it as a treat, a going-away present for my two favourite neighbours.’
‘Going away presents are meant to be for the ones going, not the ones staying.’
‘Ah, well, maybe I was planning to get my present by dropping in on the two of you whilst you were there.’
‘Hunter!’
She slapped him again but giggled too. The idea warmed her, even made her forget her guilt, just like that. She doubted his intent to actually show up but then again he did live a life in which things just happened. Everything seemed out of the ordinary and yet was achieved with apparent ease - like they do within lies, although there could be no reason for him to need to bullshit his way through life. He just did things almost by magic, like solving this threat to her marriage by upping sticks and removing the danger, as if it was just a trivial finger-click rather than an enforced sea change. Like learning to become a hypnotist in order to get oneself out of jail, or like teaching yourself whilst locked up to be an artist, to facilitate a whole new career once you were free.
‘Why were you in prison?’ she asked. ‘I know I said I wouldn’t pry about your past but I think I ought to know, since you’ve now ravished me.’
She felt his chest move beneath her with silent laughter.
‘You really want to know? It’s not that exciting, I’m afraid. I used to be employed by a tribal leader as security - part of a very small private army which was a little better skilled than his own army. It was not a nice job but back then I wasn’t far short of hating myself and the world in general, so I thought it would be a good nihilistic opportunity to live and almost certainly die by the sword. One day I was driven over to the camp of a neighbouring warlord, to deliver a bag. I didn’t know why I was sent or what I was taking. I discovered when I got there that the son of my employer had tried to double-cross this warlord during an arms deal. Money had been stolen and people had got shot. To avoid further bloodshed, my employer had sent me along with a bag full of compensatory diamonds. The warlord had also demanded the son’s head, but my employer drew the line there, sending me as the sacrifice instead, since European mercenaries were worth a lot to their paymasters.
‘Fortunately, I was carrying my passport with some I.D. in it. I always did this in case I had to cut and run at any time. I also used to carry some jewels as currency. We mainly took payment in jewels or gold as they were easier to bury, and unguarded banknotes had a habit of being stolen in camp. Like I said - it wasn’t a hotbed of morality out there. Anyway, he found my jewels, so this was a bit extra compensation to confiscate, something to buy my life with. Because he found my passport and I.D., including my address and a photo of my wife, the warlord thought he could ransom me back to my family for big bucks. That was the only reason he didn’t kill me immediately. He didn’t know there was no one at my home anymore, nor did I have much family. He put me in prison and kept me there, waiting for his ransom to arrive. He assumed my wife needed time to raise the money, which he just kept adding to. Inflation, he called it. He wasn’t bothered. He’d already got more back than he had lost, and he liked having the kudos of keeping someone with my military background under lock and key. He also liked that I could teach him to win at poker, and he especially liked it when he thought I could exorcise all his evil spirits. So in jail I stayed, indefinitely.’
‘But you hadn’t done anything wrong!’
‘Yes I had. Just being there was wrong.’
‘You must have hated him more every single day.’
‘Not really. Without him I would almost certainly be dead now. He helped alter my whole outlook on life. He provided the optimism. The missionary’s books provided the inspiration and the guidance but he provided the inducement and the time to allow it to happen. Plus he made me very rich.’
‘And how, pray, did he do that?’
‘He gave me his personal fortune. As well as bringing me my passport and weapons and a Land Rover on the day I escaped, I also convinced him to bring me the contents of his safe. Warlords always have lots of diamonds stashed away. It’s the First Law of Warlording. It’s how they do business. I don’t know why they keep doing what they are doing, when they could go anywhere and be rich men, but they always want more. Still, it was surprisingly easy to make him part with them. It rather made a mockery of all the perilous things I’d done to earn a living up to that point. I made off with his stash, hiding the stones up in the spine of my book on art. I laid low for a while, and then flew back home via Amsterdam, boldly carrying my book through customs. I sold the diamonds there and banked the cash. They didn’t give me the best price but it still had a lot of noughts in it. So that’s me: a killer, a convict, a brain-washer, a thief, and a diamond smuggler.’
‘Yes,’ she smiled up at him, ‘but you’re the nicest one that I know.’
She reached up and kissed him. It seemed too surreal to attach any of this badness to him. He was just too nice a guy. It was a lot easier to close one’s eyes and imagine him exactly as you wanted him. Better still to imagine him not having to leave at all. She shouldn’t have compounded her sin but as soon as she was kissing him the guilt evaporated. Later it would hurtle back for sure, but for now the temptation was simply too much to overcome. She thought for one moment he was holding back, allowing her time to recoup her senses. But it was her infidelity, not his, and she chose to press home her desire. She had her climax th
at day riding him, facing out towards her street, kissing him and gripping his hair as she groaned and writhed, with only the half-closed blinds to prevent her from being seen. It was reckless, but in the moment such things never count for anything.
Dirty
The news hit Maria hard. It was only offset by the fact that her husband seemed to be taking a renewed interest in her these days. If she didn’t know better she would think it was because he wasn’t getting it elsewhere. The day in question was seldom out of her mind, blending with all the other fantasies Hunter had inspired. Still she wasn’t entirely sure it hadn’t been a particularly lucid dream. Could someone really have the balls to sneak into her house wearing a balaclava, and fuck her hard while her husband lay in bed upstairs? You could never tell anyone about it - no one would believe it.
Real or otherwise, it had marginally tempered her need to hide away and play with herself. Now she wanted the real thing. His departure threatened the envisioned future of a succession of ever ruder, ever more dangerous fucks, until she was openly doing it to taunt her husband; showing him how it should be done; giving him a taste of his own medicine. Perhaps Hunter’s going would save her from this. She loved her husband for a reason - even if these were ones that other women might not understand. Regardless of his many flaws, the hateable side to him, she still adored his arrogance, his courage, his seediness. With Hunter gone there would be no one else around to touch him. To lose him would be to lose her own heartbeat.
However, she needed to revel in this dark side of her mate. She needed to be the one feeling the benefits of it. To do that, he had to accept that she was not some meek housewife, some paragon of virtue for him to hold up as untouchable whilst he tried to sully everyone else’s missus. She was not going to sacrifice her own excitement so that he could present her as the perfect, clean-minded wife - and proved his point by needing to get his filthier kicks from puttanas elsewhere. How insulting was that? He would have to get it from home or face the consequences. And she was no longer prepared to be his receptacle for a quick release. He would have to indulge her ruder side, accept it and enjoy it. He would have to learn once more how to make dirty love to her the way she wanted it. Time and privacy constraints might play a part but she was prepared to allow quality to override quantity. She could still use her fingers, when the urge got the better of her.
She would no more stay waiting in vain. Hunter had released the slut in her. Her husband would either have to pander to that or face driving her elsewhere to sate her lusts. She was quite prepared to enjoy the thrill of sexting all day with random loveless bastards, and having meaningless couplings that gave her a sneaky hour of naughty bliss, conscience-free. If she was not going to be number one in her husband’s mind, she would seek others who would treat her the way he used to, in the days he lusted after Maria, the Dirty Girl. For years she had let her husband have his way. Now it was time he let her have hers.
Thunderstorm
Right from the start Bethan knew something had to happen that day. The air was charged with it. She had her mum take the kids off her hands first thing, her excuse being an exaggeration of the sickness she felt in her belly, although she knew this was more likely caused by foreboding rather than any virus. The early heatwave was still upon them, sticky and airless, feeling way more like high summer than late spring. A storm was fast gathering. The past few days had been clear but that morning was dense and muggy, causing the sweat to leach into even the thinnest coverings. It made her edgy and restless. It addled her thoughts and threatened a headache to add to the feeling of mild nausea. It stirred her up so much that it seemed the only way to avoid the irritation and the swelter was to go out, even though she knew this was taking her away from safety and right into danger’s domain. Almost the moment she set foot outside, the rail began to fall: intermittent, fat, wet blobs of it.
She should have turned and gone straight back inside, but something propelled her onwards. The drops would only increase from now on. There would be no escaping the downpour when it finally broke. She hastened past Hunter’s drive and garden, almost sure he was watching her from within. If she could possibly concentrate she knew he’d be revealed by the colours of his aura - usually best picked up in one’s periphery - showing behind the windows, between the slats of his blinds. Always watching over her, always poised to strike: that’s what she had relied upon.
Yesterday’s news had hit her like a train, knocking all the breath, all the hope right out of her. It was so quick. Before that she had been feeling in control. The confidence was there and with it had come happiness. She had been like a completely different person and others had said the same. Even her husband had renewed interest in her, treating like he used to when they were courting, seemingly finding her attractive again. So strong had she become, she was able to resist rather than simply capitulate on his terms, allowing herself time to decide what was right for her and her girls. It was the first time she had felt any sense of power in her relationship. Hunter was her parachute in all this, silently underpinning her strength just by being there, and now he was to go.
His leaving wouldn’t instantly add on all the weight she had so successfully lost, nor take away the friendships she had made with her neighbours. It shouldn’t really bring back the gloom, since she never had any real contact with him anyway. In the time he had been there, apart from a few distant greetings or nods, he had only actually spoken to her once: a single line of speech that didn’t even get a reply. But what words they had been, what promise they held. Now that promise seemed set to evaporate. Whilst he was there it didn’t matter how little contact she had with him because a background presence would be enough to know her safety net was always there if things started to darken for her again.
Now the sun was nowhere to be seen and still she was hurrying away from the safety of her house. In a mocking reminder of just how superficial her life was, she realised too late her flight was totally aimless. There was no destination in mind, no target for solace or sanctuary. In the end she just habitually headed for the recreation ground, the place she ended up every day at this time with one or more of her kids in tow. She noted a few hunched figures scurrying for the shelter of homes as she ventured further from her own. They were the sensible ones. This was serious weather brewing up; anyone could feel it. The playground and adjoining fields were deserted. The roundabout was gently rotating, indicating a recent abandonment. With the drops becoming ever more persistent, Bethan headed for the far end of the field, up at the highest point, where the tree-line of the adjoining wood began. She stood beneath the canopy, her shoulders hunched, looking back down the open field in the direction of the village and the approaching storm.
The whole sky was sickening; a thick green-purple bruising to the clouds as they billowed almost visibly into thunderheads. They towered up, coming her way, bringing the flashes and the rumbles. She watched as the line of the heavier rain marched up the field towards her, in advance of the huge clouds which held the potential deluge. She could hear the fizz of the drops as they hit the dry ground, see the darkening of the bare patches of earth amid the short grass. It was building, right before her, the air getting ever heavier, ever closer. The protection from the leaves was minimal. Indeed the drops just seemed to fall larger upon her, sliding off the foliage to land cold and soak into her clothes.
All she had on was a vest top, a short, tight skirt, and a pair of light sandals. Only recently had she dared wear such things in public again. Now her confidence seemed like folly. The humidity just kept rising until she had no way of knowing where the sweating stopped and the saturation from the rain started. She could feel the drips running inside her top, the garment stuck to her skin at the shoulders. What the hell had driven her out into this? The vicious forks were snaking out with regularity now, all in her field of vision, the accompanying thunder quick behind like a rolling barrage. It was like some enormous, unstoppable, spiteful monster bea
ring down upon her. She had come here right into its path, right to the highest spot in the village, where its power would be strongest. There was no way home except back the way she came, straight into it. The trees might offer something but it seemed the storm was timed only to unleash its maximum power directly over where she stood, like it had always been heading inexorably to find her.
Then the acceptance and the clarity came. She emerged from the cover, just as the rain started to sheet down, instantly soaking her to the skin. She walked slowly, not hunched now, right to the centre of the field, where she stopped, her hands out to the side. Anyone stupid enough to be out there casually observing her might have thought she was bringing the storm on, silently asking it to come do its worst. It was rushing her way, still gathering its fury, the thunder cracks huge and malevolent now, enough to shake the ground and her bones. She was quaking but it might just have been the cold. Her clothes were transparent, a second skin, but inside she felt calmer than before, like she could accept the inevitable. If she tried to run it would just find her anyway, a blinding streak snaking down to pick her off. It was somehow comforting to give in to such massive potency, to stand there, acknowledge and accept its power over you.
The static raised all the hairs on her skin. The air was warmer now she was at the centre of the storm. Beneath her feet the electrical charge of the earth would be increasing - that charge she knew so well because it was around everything and showed as an aura. The charge in the atmosphere over her head would be looking for it, an equal force but with opposite polarity. All it needed was a conductive material to bridge the gap between the negative above and the positive below, and the cloud would fully unload its massive electric venom. And there she stood, waiting.
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