‘Oh yeah.’ She could feel herself blushing, thinking now of the moment he had slid the straps of that dress off her shoulders, out in the desert.
‘And today you were wearing a dress with red roses on it,’ he said. ‘You’re a floral lady!’
‘And you’re a man with a really good memory,’ she said, astonished that he would remember what she’d worn every time they met.
‘A good visual memory,’ he corrected her. ‘I remember what I observe, what I see, down to the tiniest detail. I guess it’s my training, but what actually happens that’s much foggier, and words – now words I forget.’
‘Not the words that Marnie wrote on the postcards. You remember those.’
‘That’s because they’re in the context of pictures from the past. I remember how Marnie looked when those words were spoken, what she was wearing too, where we were. I don’t remember what else was said, or what happened afterwards, or how I felt.’
Joy took a slug of the whisky. It burned her throat but made her feel warmer. The room was so cold, despite the fact the radiator was on. She meant less to him than Marnie. Of course she did.
‘Sure you remember,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here?’
‘Maybe this is my midlife crisis. My wife leaves me and I go on a wild goose chase after a figment of my imagination.’
‘But she’s not a figment because you have the cards,’ she reassured him.
‘I just don’t know why,’ he said, looking at her as if she might have the answer, ‘Marnie’s waited all these years to contact me.’
Joy didn’t know how to explain it either.
‘You’ll find out tomorrow I guess.’
‘I haven’t even told her I’m coming. It doesn’t seem real,’ he said. ‘That I’ll see her again. And yet sometimes it feels like only yesterday when I saw her last.’
‘What was Marnie like?’ she asked, feeling a twinge of jealousy when his eyes lit up.
‘She was something else, Joy. A stunning girl – and clever. She was such a talented designer. I knew she’d make it, with or without my help.’
Joy took another gulp of her whisky. The drink was relaxing her, making her feel generous. She wanted to hear the story of Marnie and Lewis. It would help her remember that Lewis could be nothing more to her than a friend.
‘I let her down,’ Lewis said. ‘We worked together, you see. It was down to Marnie that I got offered a partnership, and I meant to tell my boss about her. I tried . . . but I was a coward. She did so much great design work, and I took the credit.’
‘I can’t believe you’d do that, Lewis,’ Joy said.
‘Well, I did. I was a selfish, ambitious young man.’
She watched him run his hand through his thick hair, and she wanted to touch him, reassure him. She wanted to tell him that everyone makes mistakes when they’re young.
‘But I really did want to tell my boss about Marnie. I did try,’ Lewis went on. ‘He was such a chauvinist, and Marnie was our very capable girl Friday, and he didn’t want her involved in the design side of things . . .’
‘Did you tell him in the end?’
‘I tried, but we were all so drunk that last night, and I got it all wrong the way I went about it. Then something happened –’
Lewis stopped speaking. He took the whisky bottle and refilled their glasses. She didn’t stop him. She wanted to know what that something was.
‘Is that why you and Marnie fell out?’ she asked. ‘Because you never told your boss about her?’
‘No,’ he said with a heavy voice.
He got up and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtains. She could see nothing outside, just darkness and a few winking lights. But she could hear the surge of the sea whispering to her from beyond the glass.
‘You should leave the curtains open so the first thing you see in the morning is the sea,’ he said, his back to her as he stood at the window.
She took another drink and waited for him to speak, but he said nothing for several minutes. He turned round and spied her abalone shell on the top of her case. He bent down and picked it up.
‘Is this yours?’ he asked, looking up at her.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘My dad gave it to me. It’s the only part of the sea I’ve ever had . . . or seen, I guess.’
Lewis looked amused. ‘So you decided to bring it all the way to Ireland?’
‘I didn’t want to leave it behind . . . with Eddie.’
He stood up, placing it on her bedside table. ‘It is really quite beautiful,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you’ll find any shells like that on Skerries Beach.’
‘Can I ask you something, Lewis?’ she said, feeling bold after nearly two glasses of whisky.
‘Sure.’ He came to sit back down on the bed.
‘Have you ever cheated on your wife?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Never.’ He paused. ‘Well, not if you don’t count Thursday night, with you, but then she’d already left.’
He looked into her eyes, and she found his impossible to read.
‘I think Eddie has been cheating on me for years,’ she said in a small voice. She felt her heart curling up inside, afraid and bruised.
He said nothing, just leaned over and put his hand on her knee.
‘He can’t love me at all.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Lewis said. ‘Every man is different. Just because a husband slips up doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his wife.’
‘How can that be?’
‘Nothing is ever black and white, Joy,’ Lewis said. ‘Maybe Eddie was looking for attention. He didn’t really hide his indiscretion, did he?’
‘Do you think Samantha might want more attention from you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, Samantha was doing the honest thing actually. I can’t be mad at her at all. Our marriage had been dead for years. But you and Eddie are different – you told me that, remember? The first time we really talked you told me that you belonged together – that he’s the love of your life.’
‘I thought he was the one, you know, from the minute he asked me out on a date. I just thought, “He’s my guy”.’
‘So I’m sure he feels the same deep down. You’ll sort it out,’ Lewis said gently.
She thought about his words. How sure she had been of the love between her and Eddie only a few weeks ago and now nothing was certain. She was confused, too, by Lewis’s presence in her life. They’d had sex in the heat of the moment, a mistake, and she knew she should stay away from him. But their fledgling friendship was precious to her.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Maybe there is no one true love but others you can love too. If you marry young, there becomes a point where either you change together or you begin to separate.’
‘I guess that’s what happened to me and Samantha.’
Joy took the bottle and poured herself another glass. For the first time in her life she was beginning to realise she just might be able to live without Eddie.
‘My husband is a cheating bastard,’ she said, raising her glass in a toast.
Lewis knocked his glass against hers, and they both downed their whiskies in one.
‘Why can’t the nice people ever hook up together?’ she said.
He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile. She was possessed by an urge to touch his cheek, bring her hand up to stroke his unruly hair.
‘Your wife is stupid,’ she said, aware that she was drunk but unable to stop herself. ‘And Marnie is stupid to have let you go all those years ago. I’d never let you go. I think you’re lovely.’
‘Well, I think you’re lovely too, Joy.’
She could feel her heart swelling with emotion, and before she could stop herself, she had slid across the bed, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. For a moment she felt him hesitate, and then he kissed her back.
It felt so good to kiss Lewis’s lips, to smell him so close to her again and feel his arms around her, pressing into her thin py
jama top. She didn’t want to think; she just wanted to feel. She allowed herself to be immersed in sensation, so liberating, because she could be herself. All those years with her husband she had been trying to be the woman he’d wanted her to be. Now her desires were free, and she forgot everything apart from kissing Lewis and feeling his touch upon her. She longed to make love to him again.
Still embracing, she lay down upon him on the bed, kissing him deeply. She brushed her cheeks against his, feeling the surge within her heart as it beat against his. This moment felt so right, so natural, as if it had been waiting to happen her whole life. Joy began to unbutton her top. Yet to her surprise Lewis reached out and placed his hand upon hers, so she could unbutton no further. She stopped kissing him and opened her eyes. He was looking at her, his pupils large and dark, his brown eyes drawing her into their liquid depths.
‘We’re drunk,’ he whispered.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I don’t care.’
She leaned in to kiss him again, but he put his fingers on her lips.
‘Joy, we shouldn’t do this.’ His voice was gentle but firm.
Her heart fell. She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks, a sense of shame enveloping her.
‘Why not?’ she whispered.
‘Because it’s wrong,’ he said. ‘You have to sort things with Eddie, and I’m here to find Marnie. We’re going to screw up our friendship like this.’
She scrambled off him, mortified now.
‘I . . . I . . . I’m so sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘You’re right; I don’t know what I was doing. I’m not used to whisky.’
He got up and stood awkwardly in front of her. ‘No, it’s my fault.’ He sidestepped her, heading for the door. ‘Please forgive me.’
Then, before she could say another word, he’d run out of the room.
She stood for a moment, just staring at the shut door with the emergency-procedures poster on the back of it, the Do Not Disturb sign swinging on the handle. She was beyond embarrassment.
Devastated, she got into bed and pulled the cold sheets up to her chin. What was she doing here, so far from her life as she knew it? What would she do if she couldn’t find her birth mother or, worse still, if the woman rejected her all over again? Could she withstand it?
It was only when she turned out the light, in the dark tomb of the hotel bedroom, she let herself cry, silent tears sliding down her face. She was a fool twice over. Not only had her husband cheated on her, but she had let herself develop feelings for a man who was clearly in love with another woman.
*
Lewis lay on his bed like a fish stranded out of water, a weight pressing down on his chest, his breath short and his body hard with arousal. He closed his eyes and imagined Joy’s lips on his again, how good it had felt. He wanted to make love to her so badly. It was all he could do to stop himself from storming back up the corridor to her hotel room.
But he mustn’t.
He had to find Marnie.
He had waited twenty-two years for this day. He couldn’t change his mind now.
Joy had been drunk. If he made love to her tonight, he would be taking advantage of her.
But why was he overcome with this urge to feel her in his arms, to be inside her again? They had both acknowledged that the other night had been one-off comfort sex. They were friends – that was all – and he was here in Ireland to find the love of his life. Why would he abandon that for one night of passion with a wife on the rebound? It would destroy their friendship. He valued Joy too much to do that to her.
He put his hands on his chest and felt the frantic beat of his heart. He tried to breathe steady and slow, to focus on Marnie and forget about Joy in her flowery pyjamas. He saw again the image of Marnie in her green trench coat, its collar up, her russet hair uncovered and glistening with raindrops, her eyes swimming with heartache.
London, 14 April 1967 5.19 a.m.
Lewis recited Marnie’s address in South Kensington.
‘Thurloe Square,’ Pete repeated, sounding surprised. ‘Isn’t that where Marnie lives?’
‘Yes, that’s where we’re going. That’s why she left dinner after the phone call. She’s been helping my sister.’
Pete glanced over at him, but Lewis refused to look back. He couldn’t deal with explanations right now. What would he find when he got to Marnie’s flat? Surely Marnie was exaggerating? Lizzie thrived on drama.
He tried to convince himself that his sister was putting on an act like always.
Pete drove fast, getting more speed out of his old Morris Minor than Lewis would ever have imagined possible. The streets were deserted apart from the odd pedestrian, either returning from a night out, or off to work early. There was the sensation that they were not yet part of the real world. They were driving through the dark truth of their city during that empty first hour of dawn, its black seams visible: concrete, tarmac, bricks and dirt, people and their filth – that’s all London really was.
Marnie’s kohl was smudged into the dark shadows under her eyes, her fair skin looked almost transparent and her hair was scraped back off her face. He had never seen her like this before. She looked so young – so undone.
‘Where were you? Where were you?’ she kept saying as he rushed into the flat.
‘I’m so sorry.’ He grabbed her hands as if praying for forgiveness. ‘Where is she?’
Marnie nodded towards her bedroom. Lewis dropped her hands and charged in. Only yesterday morning he had been on this same bed making love to Marnie. Now his sister was lying upon it, her red hair fanning out on the pillow, her skin wet with sweat. She looked like a pale sea creature washed up on a beach, a damaged mermaid. He touched her and found she was warm. When he felt her pulse it was there, if faint.
‘I didn’t know what to do,’ Marnie was saying behind him. ‘That American girl told me she’d smoked too much pot, but this is more than that. I was on the verge of calling 999.’
Lewis bent over Lizzie and slapped her face, but she didn’t stir. ‘Lizzie!’ he shouted, ‘Lizzie!’
He tried to sit her up and shake her, but she just flopped down again as if she had no spine to support her.
‘Christ,’ Lewis said. ‘Why didn’t you call an ambulance?’
‘You said not to.’ Marnie turned on Lewis. ‘Remember? You said whatever happens don’t call an ambulance. I just thought she’d smoked too many joints and would sober up. I kept thinking you were going to be here any minute. I was waiting for you.’
‘Yes, but I expected you to use your common sense,’ he snapped.
‘Lewis, stop it,’ Pete interrupted. ‘This is not Marnie’s fault.’
Yet Lewis couldn’t help thinking it was. Marnie should have had more sense. She should have ignored his instructions and called a doctor. Even so he held back.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Everything’s going to be okay.’
‘I thought she was all right, you know resting, but now she won’t wake up . . . she just won’t . . .’
Pete leaned over the bed. He picked up Lizzie’s limp hand and tried to open her eyelids with his fingers.
‘You need to get her to the hospital fast,’ he said. ‘I think she’s taken an overdose.’
‘But she never takes too many. She’s always okay,’ Lewis protested. ‘She just does this to get attention. Don’t you think we can make her throw up, force her to drink coffee?’
He bent over his sister and yelled in her face, his spit landing on her forehead, on her cheeks and lips. ‘Elizabeth Bell, wake up now!’
His sister didn’t stir. There really was something about her this time. She was so still. Fear crept up his legs. He started to shake involuntarily. Pete was right. They needed to get Lizzie to a hospital.
He carried his sister out of the bedroom, out of Marnie’s flat and down the stairs. She was as light as a child. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, closed up and lost from him.
‘I’ll drive you,’ Pete offered again.
Really what he wanted to say was that he needed to be alone with Lizzie. Away from Pete and Marnie and their desperate faces.
His MG was parked right outside the gate of Marnie’s house, where he’d left it the previous afternoon. That golden glorious evening felt like it was from another era. His head had been full of ambition and passion for Marnie. Now that was all smashed and ruined.
Marnie unlocked the car door for him, and he carefully arranged Lizzie into the passenger seat.
‘We’ll follow you in Pete’s car,’ Marnie said, handing him the keys.
‘No,’ he said, batting her away. ‘You’ve done enough damage.’
His words were harsh, and she stepped back as if he’d slapped her. Pete looked shocked. But Lewis didn’t care. He had to save Lizzie. That was all that mattered now.
As he sped away, Lewis caught sight of Marnie’s face as it caved in. It was a sight he would never forget. Marnie’s hands plastered upon her cheeks, tears spilling over them, as she turned in to Pete, hiding from the horror of Lewis’s words. Guilt seared through him. Why was he blaming Marnie? All this was his fault, not hers.
He drove through Kensington like a lunatic, his sister slumped and unmoving beside him in the little car.
‘Lizzie,’ he pleaded, ‘Lizzie, I’m sorry. Please wake up.’
He promised her he would never abandon her again. He promised her that she could call him any time and he would always be there. He wouldn’t laugh at her, or mock her paintings, or belittle her. All she had to do was live. He promised her the whole wide world if she would just live.
But it was too late. No one could save his sister. Lewis screamed at the doctors and nurses to do something, but Lizzie never regained consciousness. As minute after minute passed her body shut down, and finally they watched as her heart stopped beating. The official cause of death was a hypertensive attack brought on by a lethal combination of her antidepressants with amphetamines. An accident. After all Lizzie’s suicide attempts it was the medication that helped her not to feel suicidal that had killed her. Lizzie died at 9.18 a.m. on Friday 14 April 1967. She was twenty-four years old.
The Gravity of Love Page 22