by Sarah Till
Chapter Three
Even though I had decided to lie in, at least until the sun came up, therefore avoiding Gabriel until David was there, and putting my silly teenage crush out of my head, I was wide awake at five. I lay in bed worrying that I hadn’t ever had an orgasm, the tendrils of doubt working their way to making a connection between this and why David was sleeping with someone else. It wasn’t as if I’d had a boring sex life. On the contrary, it had been exciting – if you were living in a perpetual porn film. I’d had a few boyfriends at school, lost my virginity early, nothing unusual there.
My parents hadn’t been very protective even though I was an only child, but I had dodged any half-hearted attempts to smother my enthusiasm for attracting men. It seemed a lot more important to me than anything else, as if having a boyfriend was proof of beauty. I’d collected men and slept my way through at least a dozen by the time I was in my mid-teens; I’d become a caricature of the ‘sort of girl’ my parents had willed me not to become. Just as it became a game to me, I moved to another town. I lost touch with my parents, living in a sprawling four bed roomed house with my university friends. I had a little bit of money and a subsistence grant, enough to buy clothes and cigarettes, but not to eat. I gradually became thinner and thinner until one day I was mistaken for a model. At least, that was the opening line from Sparky.
‘Looking for work, love? I’m a scout, looking for models. Some studio work, some video?’
It might have been the lack of food or the fact that I was free from my parents’ gaze, but somehow I had believed him. My addled brain made me tread his footprints right back to the dark studio, where, within a week, he was going for the money shot. Two days later, on a Friday night, I was dancing naked. It took me six shots of tequila before I went to work to be able to function without throwing up, and a day of throwing up to recover. My weekend was a round of dancing, drinking and, eventually, screwing men I had only just met. Most of them were punters in the bar, some of them were supplied by Sparky ‘for extras’. All of them knew the price of a blow job, a fuck and a hand job, and they always handed the money, plus a healthy tip, to Sparky at the end of the night. No one had attacked me, although some of them had been rough, and all of them had worn a condom.
I blinked into the darkness. Although they had changed me and made me harsh, those days were over now. I’d been with David for a long time and made a new, beige life and I didn’t want to think about my other murky grey life anymore. Somehow, I don’t think he’d never known about the men; he’d known about the dancing, but he saw this as an important part of our courtship. I’d told him that I was a dancer, but I think he imagined me in some kind of Swan Lake scenario instead of the naked gyrating in a cage suspended over a dance floor. The only positive part of this was that when people looked up, my face was the last thing they saw. I’d seen David in the club lots of times, but he’d never recognised me as his girlfriend, even though he had stared upwards between my legs, along with all the other club-goers.
I’d go to work until two then jump into bed with David, who would go through the motions of foreplay. Followed by sex that veered between a routine but rather limited repertoire to a very fast ‘quickie’, as he liked to call it. From one extreme to another, I had spent all my adult life pleasing men, but never actually got there myself. My customers didn’t care, and David probably thought he had pleased me because as he went through the motions of his standard performance, I went through mine, complete with faux-writhing and moaning. I was so happy that he had rescued me that I had never wanted anything more then what I had. But then again, I hadn’t wanted any less either.
Without knowing it he’d rescued me too late. Far too late to save myself from what I had done to my parents. The money and the beautiful house means nothing to me compared to what happened with them; I would give it all up tomorrow to be able to go back, to talk to my mother again and ask her advice.
Do I stay and have David’s child, perhaps my only chance for a family, or let him go to his lover? I wonder why I’m still here, in this bed, in this house? Still thinking about having a child with a man who thinks nothing of hurting me. But it’s a vicious circle, isn’t it? Classic. He hits out. I’m hysterical. He cries. I say I’m leaving. He says he’ll kill me. At first I didn’t believe him, but he’s scared me so much that I feel he’s capable of it. It’s hard to explain, but it’s a kind of cold cruelty that he hides with a veneer of respectability of me. And a teaching career. He used to say we need a baby to make us perfect, but now, since Sam, I think he’s just sleeping with me to try to make me think things are all right between us. He denies everything and fucks me once a month. I need to be apart from him, but he won’t leave. Even though he’s got another woman, he won’t leave. It’s as if something is keeping him here, and it isn’t me.
I start to sniffle and I feel David stir beside me. I swing my legs out of bed and creep downstairs. I check to see if Gabriel is in the utility room, and when he isn’t I gently put David’s phone from his pocket and scan the messages. Lots of ‘I love you’s. Sam appears to have found out how to text a heart symbol. David telling her ‘nite nite’ with kisses. Then nothing after twelve o’clock. There isn’t usually much activity at weekend. I wonder if she is married? Is that why she can’t text at weekends? Is it someone from work? I can’t think of anyone called Sam, but then again, I don’t know all the school staff. It could be anyone.
I push the phone back in his pocket and turn to see Sarah’s light go on. Her words sting me again, even though I know she meant no harm. I suddenly panic that I’m missing out on something big, something that other women have and I don’t. Something that, because most of my past has been concerned with pleasing other people, I’ve never been privy to. Is that why I feel so disconnected? I see her stretching in the half-lit garden and I wonder what her life is really like?
Vera’s car appears over the crest of the hill and she parks up. She’s even here on a Saturday; this time she has a big umbrella. Her feet trip over the stones in the road as she heads for the wall, but suddenly she stops and turns. Another car goes past and she presses herself against the wall. When it’s gone she’s looking directly at my window. I duck back inside, but she’s nodding and beckoning. I look closer and see a figure dart across the road towards her. Gabriel is hurrying to her with a plastic beaker full of steaming liquid.
I open the window as quietly as I can and listen. In the empty moorland air, their words echo off the hills.
‘Here, have this, you must be freezing up here. I’ve been watching you coming and going.’
She smiles at him, her round face much older than I first thought, deep lines stopping at craters that dimple her cheeks.
‘Oh, thank you, lovey. That’s very kind. I have got a flask, though.’
Her voice surprises me, she sounds like a little bird, chirpy and high. He’s nodding.
‘I wondered if.. no, no, it’s OK,’
She moves closer to him, taking the tea and looks up into his face.
‘What? What is it deary?’
‘Well, I’ve just moved in here, I’ll be staying here for a while and I’m writing a book about the moor. About the... accident. I wondered if I could walk with you and make some notes? I won’t be a nuisance.’
She sighs and looks around. Her whole body has a defeated look, as if someone has placed an invisible weight on her shoulders.
‘Go on then. Just for today then we’ll see how it goes.’ They begin to walk and as they jump the wall, their voices fade. ‘What’s your book about, pet?’
Gabriel, in his thin woolly jumper and his canvas trainers, sets out onto the moor in the drizzly morning.
‘Oh, just about the moorland and its characteristics. I’m a geologist. I’ve been meaning to do this for a while but never really had the time, or the freedom.’
His voice fades out into a hiss and I go to the kitchen. Gabriel, a writer? I wonder why he didn’t mention this yesterday, and why I’m
so surprised? He did say that he worked from home, and I thought he said that he was into rocks and things, hence his lecture on the world being joined together. I stir my drink and wonder casually if he’s had anything published.
It’s time to go to the bees and I quickly pull on my apiary suit and wander over to the hive. It’s fascinating, watching them all work together, all working towards one goal, a self-contained unit where the work gets done no matter what. I pull off the hood and go into the barn. The birds are quiet, their songs shrouded by the thick moorland mist. I look around to see if there’s a wet fog over the moorland, and for any bees going out and coming back, and all seems normal. I can’t quite comprehend it all, the way nature works, and stand for a minute looking at the birds constantly searching for food, the bees coming and going, legs laden. I have no answers, no cause and effect as yet, for how the moorland behaves how it does, so I mark the chart with a question mark. I glance behind me and see two dots wandering in the distance. The blank white box at the bottom of the observation sheet dazzles me as I fold it backwards and go back to the house.
I potter around for a while then I hear David stirring. I wonder if I should go and talk to him, confront him, ask him about Sam. Before I can do anything, I hear the shower start to drain and his footsteps on the stairs. I’ve made his tea and toast and he picks up the paper without looking at me. We don’t speak to each other anymore. If other people are there, he’ll make the effort and direct statements at me, but on the whole we wouldn’t have a conversation. If there was a verbal exchange it would be about travel arrangement, meals or his infidelity, which he would always deny. Just as every day, he’s sitting in front of me humming and reading and crunching.
‘I’ve invited Sarah over later for something to eat. Thought she might meet Gabriel.’
‘Uhu.’
Crunch.
‘I’ll go into town to get something. So you’ll have to have a sandwich for lunch.’
His eyes don’t leave the papers.
‘Mmm. I’ll be in the workshop this afternoon.’
I pick up the family section and read it. I wash the dishes and David goes into his workshop and probably tinkers with an instrument, something a student has broken. I wouldn’t know for sure. I’ve only been in there a couple of times. He spends a lot of time in there and locks the doors when he leaves. I can see his reflection in the utility room window and he is bent over his phone, smiling. I hear Vera’s car rev into action and Gabriel rushes through the door.
‘It’s really fucking cold out there.’ His wet feet leave big squelches on the floor and he quickly pulls the canvas shoes off. I stare at him, arms folded, and he grins.
‘Are you doing any shopping today? Could I cadge a lift into town?’
He’s looking up at me and, although he’s clearly in his late thirties, he’s got a youngish appeal about him. His eyes are pleading and alive, like there are a million thoughts going on at once and you can’t tell what will spill out next.
‘Yes. I’m going to get some dinner for tonight. Sarah’s coming over.’
‘Great. What’s on the menu?’
He’s rubbing his feet warm now, and for a moment I allow myself to imagine that this is what a real relationship would be. A two-sided conversation.
‘Lasagne and home baked bread. I’ve got a bread maker. If I get it on early it’ll just be done by then.’
‘Cool. But I’ll make the bread. Or I’ll show you how to do it by hand, it’s all in the kneading.’
I stare at him and he stares back intently. Even through the horror of my life with David I can feel a warm glow, and I can’t help but smile.
‘OK, but I’m going right now. I’ll wait in the car.’
Ten minutes later we are driving towards town. Past the moor, where I turn my head to see if there are any mortality spectators today. The Council have erected more green signs with ‘Moor’ in large letters with an arrow pointing over towards the steep hillside. Someone had added a wooden sign underneath it saying ‘Accident site’. I marvel at this and wonder if they will eventually change the green signs to brown ‘tourist attraction’ signs. Maybe even a blue plaque for the victims. That would draw the crowds. Gabriel is fiddling with the car stereo, finding the right station for himself. I’m getting more gently irritated by the second as he leans close to me. I decide to get him to talk so he’ll stop fidgeting.
‘So you went on the moor today with Vera?’
He looks straight at me.
‘I did. She’s not called Vera, you know, Patti.’
‘Well, that’s how I like to think of her. A sad little old lady. What did you want with her?’
He laughs loudly. He throws his head back and his hair falls around his shoulders. I can see his teeth are straight and white.
‘Want with her? Nothing. I just wanted to walk. I was asking her what she knew about the moor for my book.’
I adjust the rear-view mirror.
‘Your book? So you’re a writer, are you?’
‘Yeah. A writer. I’ve decided to write a book about moorland structures and how people see them. You know, when they’re out walking.’
I smile and glance at him.
‘A bit like Wainwright’s walks? You know, about the Lake District.’
He frowns and winces slightly, as if I had just told him that post-it notes had already been invented.
‘Yeah, Yeah. Just like that. Except with some geo stuff in them. But I need to know how people feel about the geo as well as how it is technically. Does that make sense?’
‘Yes. I know what you mean. So will she help you then?’
‘Yes. She’s asked me to walk with her tomorrow. So I’m going to get some boots and waterproofs. That’s where I’m going now.’
I feel slightly jealous that Gabriel knows more about Vera than I do. My heart beats faster as I imagine her telling him something private about the moor, about her purpose, her personal experiences. Something I don’t have in my research. She’s my discovery, my routine. My death tourist. We park up and go into the Shopping Centre. Gabriel rushes into the outdoor clothing shop and mauls the waterproof jackets and boots. He chooses an expensive coat, some boots and a hat. On his way to the counter he picks up a hiker’s stick, and some thick socks. I mentally calculate the cost and it’s over three hundred pounds. He pays and walks back to me, swinging the bag and I sigh.
‘I thought you had no money, and that’s why you were staying with us?’
‘That’s not enough to get a place. Do you know how much it costs to rent somewhere right now?’
‘No. Not really.’
‘It’s a lot, believe me. Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while.’
He strides off and I like the sound of this. Everything he says seems to be a double entendre and his whole stance is provocative. I notice these things because I’m a scientist. I have a mental tick chart for everything, and Gabriel’s an outlier for sure. He’s hurrying into the supermarket across the way now. He grabs a basket and expertly selects a range of ingredients. I run behind him as he trolley-dashes through the aisles.
‘We’re having lasagne. Lasagne. Gabriel, are you listening?’
We arrive at the meat counter.
‘Shoulder of lamb. Honey glazed. If we get home soon it will be done in time, take about three hours. And the beauty of it is, we can just leave it in the oven whilst we get on with other things.’
‘We don’t need to buy honey, Gabriel, I’m an apiarist as well as an aetiologist. A beekeeper. I have plenty of honey. Did you not notice that?’
His eyes are piercing into me and I look up at him. It’s there again, that funny feeling. The woman behind the counter arrives, hands on hips.
‘Aw. Bless. Just met have we? Wears off after a while, you know, all that staring into each other’s eyes.’
I turn slowly.
‘We’re not together.’
‘Oh, sorry, madam. Who shall I serve first then?’
; ‘Well, we are together. But not like that.’
She doesn’t believe me and Gabriel doesn’t believe me either. I feel his eyes on my every move as I pack the bags at the checkout. Once inside the car, I explode.
‘What was that, Gabriel? What was that just then? It’s not that I don’t like you but there’s the small matter of David. You know, the man I’m living with and your friend.’
‘Living with unhappily. And I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend. More of an acquaintance.’
‘OK. Yes. Unhappily. But if he’s just an acquaintance, how did you get him to let you stay? He doesn’t usually bring strays home.’
I realise that this sounds cruel, but Gabriel doesn’t flinch. He thinks for a moment, biting his lip, as if he’s deciding how much to tell me. He’s staring straight ahead now, and serious.
‘I asked him. The thing is, Patti, if you ask people for something in the right way, they only have the choice of ‘yes’ or ‘no’. You’re interested in cause and effect, aren’t you? Very simple. You just ask. I asked David if I could stay for a while and he said yes. So that’s how I’m here. I just asked. Only two days in and I’ve found more reasons to stick around.’
I blush scarlet.
‘Oh. What?’
‘Well, the lady on the moor. Good material for my work. And before you say it, yes I do realise she’s a human being. Oh. And you. You seem like good fun.’
‘But Gabriel, I’ll be honest, it’s not as if...’
He’s looking out of the window, staring at two girls across the way.