For a week I am invalid, but the expensive daily injections and cups of red, green and yellow jelly are useful, and soon I am almost myself. My appetite returns and I feel good again.
But I have lost five days of my 42.
Twenty-two
I meet Blake for lunch in Maide Vale, in a restaurant that reflects the laid-back style of the area.
‘Why are we meeting here?’ I ask.
‘Got something to show you,’ he says.
‘What?’ I ask curiously. His eyes are twinkling, he laughs at my impatience.
‘Why spoil the surprise?’
‘OK.’
After lunch, Tom drives us to an apartment block in the middle of Little Venice. We get out and take the lift to the fifth floor. Blake fishes a key out of his pocket, and with a lopsided smile at my uncomprehending frown puts the key into the door and opens it. We step into an empty apartment. I am immediately drawn to the balcony. It has a wonderful view of all the waterways and canals that make up Little Venice. Pretty amazing.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Yeah,’ I say carefully, not sure where this is going. And then suddenly it hits me. This is my kiss-off present at the end of our 42 days. I keep a bright smile on my face, hope it doesn’t look too false, and turn around.
He has taken Sorab out of the pram and is coming towards me with him in his arms. ‘He’ll drool all over your suit,’ I say, trying to appear normal.
‘Come, I’ll show you the rest,’ he says. He seems almost excited. That kind of annoys me. I remember Jack saying, no man wants a woman for just 42 days. You’ll end up as his mistress.
Silently, I follow him around the two-bedroom flat. The main bedroom is sunny and spacious, but my heart is breaking inside. He wants to stash me away here!
‘Do you think Billie will like it?’
‘Billie?’ I ask, confused.
He nods. ‘You know her taste, do you think she will like it?’
I frown. ‘Why?’
‘It’s for her.’
‘What?’ I laugh. A crazy cackle.
‘Well?’
I laugh again with relief. It is tumbling inside me like an upturned bowl of marbles. The sound a joy to behold. ‘She’ll love it.’
‘That’s settled then,’ he says, in a satisfied tone. ‘It is in your name, of course, since I know that she keeps…er…complicated financial arrangements with the Her Majesty’s government, but whenever she becomes financially independent you can transfer it into her name.’
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I don’t want you visiting her on that horrible estate. Every time you tell me you are going there I almost break out in hives.’
I can’t stop smiling.
‘Obviously it needs a new bathroom and kitchen, but you girls can redecorate it in any way you want. Just liaise with Laura and she will open accounts wherever you want.’
I am so full of joy I am almost in tears. ‘It is the most wonderful thing that anyone has ever done for Billie.’
He becomes suddenly brusque with embarrassment. ‘Well, I have to get back to the office. Tom will drop you off wherever you want to go. See you at home this evening.’
I throw my arms around his neck. I feel so much love for him I am almost in tears. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘Thank you so much.’ I pull back and look deeply into his beautiful eyes. ‘I really, really, really love you, you know. With all my heart.’
He bends his head and kisses me tenderly. Why won’t he tell me he loves me? I know he loves me. Someone who is not in love could never do something this generous and delicious.
I go with him to the door. He stops. ‘Who did you think the apartment was for?’
‘Me.’
‘You?’ He seemed genuinely confused. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘I thought it was my kiss-off gift.’
He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. ‘You have no idea at all, have you? The papers are on the ledge over the fireplace,’ he says, and then he is gone.
I stand in the balcony and watch him leave the building, cross the road and get into the back of a waiting dark blue Rolls-Royce with a silver hood. Then I call Billie.
‘Billie, what are you doing right now?’
‘Watching my nails dry.’
‘Can you get a cab and come meet me in Maida Vale.’
‘Why, what’s in Maida Vale?’
‘Do you want to spoil the surprise?’
‘Why would I wanna do that?’
The bell rings in less than half an hour.
I open the door with a stupid grin on my face. I can’t help it. I am so happy and excited for Billie.
‘I’ve smeared my nail polish so this better be good,’ she says, waving her ruined nails in front of my face.
‘Sorry,’ I say and she steps over the threshold. Just like me she goes immediately to the balcony.
‘Wow, this is some view, isn’t it? Whose place is it?’
‘Yours.’
She turns around slowly. ‘Sorry?’
‘It’s yours. Blake bought it for you.’
‘For me?’ She is frowning.
‘Yup.’
Her eyes are narrowed. ‘Why?’
‘I think he hates Sorab’s godmother to live on a council estate. He was kind of put off by the syringes and the smell in the stairwells.’
‘What do you mean by for me? What happens when your 42 days are up?’
‘You still get to keep it.’
She breaks into a mad grin. ‘A flat right in the middle of classy Little Venice just for little ole me? Wow. You know what, if he hasn’t been straight as a die in all his dealings with you from the moment he met you, I’d never believe it.’
‘Well, it’s in my name at the moment, but as soon as our business picks up and you stop being on the dole, I’ll transfer it into your name.’
I hand her the papers.
She looks at them. ‘Wow, who’d have thought?’ She lifts her face to mine. There are tears in her eyes. She blinks them away proudly.
I smile at her. ‘And you know what is even more exciting? Blake has agreed to pick up the decorating tab. You have carte blanche to decorate it in any way you want.’
‘I just don’t know what to say, Lana,’ she says suddenly.
‘Is it worth messing your nails for?’ I tease.
‘Can you put that child down for one moment,’ she asks gruffly.
I put Sorab into his stroller and she envelops me in a bear hug. ‘Thank you, Lana. I know you don’t pray, so every day I get down on my knees and I pray that everything will work out for you,’ she whispers in my ear.
I pull back. ‘You do?’
She nods solemnly.
‘Thank you,’ I say, and smile. Grateful that she is my friend.
Twenty-three
Day 17
He made me lie on the bathroom floor and gave me a hot coffee enema. Twice he administered it. It was uncomfortable. And twice I sat on the toilet until there was no more to void, and I felt strangely light and cleansed.
At the edge of the bed he pushed me back and holding onto my thighs he spread my legs wide and pinned them on either side of my head. My lower body rolled up to accommodate his needs. Now nothing was hidden from his eyes. Completely exposed to him, I looked into his hooded eyes,
He laid his palm on my open sex.
‘You are very damp,’ he said, and immediately after sank into my wet cunt.
He buried himself deeper still. I cried out, but he only said, ‘You were made for me. This body was made to take me and only me. When I am finished with you there will be no part of your body that I will not have been in or on. Every fucking inch of you is mine and mine only.’
He pulled out of me and without taking his eyes off me smeared his thumb with lubricant.
‘Now lie down on your face and present yourself to me.’
I turned over and lay down with my cheek flat on the mattress and my butt r
ounded and pushed up towards him.
‘Spread your legs more for me.’ I obeyed and he slowly inserted his thumb into the ring of clenched muscles.
‘I own this,’ he said, dipping it in and out. In and out.
Strange, but not painful. Pleasurable even. I knew what he was doing. He was stretching me. Touching the sensitive walls, pressing on vital nerve endings until my body began to move restlessly on the bed. Now he knew I was excited and ready.
He covered his erection with jelly and began to press it against me.
This time I cried out in protest. A sharp, unfamiliar pain. A frisson of panic in my lower belly. He is too big. I won’t be able to take him.
‘You have to relax,’ he said. ‘Let me in… Pain has possibilities, holds a different kind of pleasure.’ His voice was low, seductive.
I wanted to take him in, but my muscles remained clenched, uncooperative. He could not have moved an inch further.
‘You have to trust me, Lana,’ he said and reaching under me began to stroke my clitoris. I began to tremble. Taking advantage of my distracted state, he pushed suddenly into me.
The pain was immediate and sharp, and I screamed out, but he had become motionless, to allow my body to absorb the foreign intrusion, the strange sensation of hot fullness. When he judged my body had come to accept him, he pushed all the way in.
I moaned restlessly.
There was still pain, but more than the pain was the pleasure of being taken by him. In that position that I should have considered debased and humiliating I found decadent pleasure.
He began to move inside me and I couldn’t help the strange animal sounds that came out of me. Firmly gripped by my rectum and the foreignness of what we were doing he came fast, spilling his seed deep inside me, crying out my name. He buckled against me, but he did not pull out of me. Instead he reached over and began pleasuring my clit.
‘Clench your muscles,’ he said and I obeyed.
The unfamiliar sensations of pressure and pleasure coursed through my body. I climaxed, shaking and trembling, as quickly as he had. For some time he remained inside. When he pulled out of me I was sorry. I wanted him back inside me. He belongs inside me.
Every part of me cries for him when he leaves.
I put the pen down and close my journal. Nowadays, I write without resentment, eagerly, because it is the only real and honest communication I have with him. I feel him distant. Moving away from me. Something is bothering him. The days pass away in a haze of sex—it seems to me more like a desperate desire to physically meld with me, to forget for a while whatever is troubling him.
Once he woke up, drenched in sweat, shouting hoarsely, almost sobbing, ‘Not her, please.’
When I touched him, he turned to me with wild eyes, and recognizing me, fell into the crook of my neck gratefully, and hugged me so tightly, I whimpered. But when I asked him about his nightmare, he whispered in my ear, ‘Just don’t ever leave me.’
As if I would ever leave him. As if it was me that set a limit of 42 days on our time together.
Twenty-four
Billie calls. She wants me to drop Sorab off for the afternoon. She is lonely. She misses him. I leave Sorab with her and go to Sloane Square. I want to buy a pink shirt for Blake. It’s a sort of joke. He thinks pink shirts are sissy, and I think they are a turn-on—only really macho men can carry them off. I find the shirt I want and I am about to return home when I suddenly stop in my tracks.
Rupert Lothian.
There are two men with him, business types in dark suits. He must have just had lunch with them. For a moment we are both so surprised neither of us speaks, but he is first to recover.
‘What a lovely surprise,’ he says smoothly, and lays a heavy, proprietary hand on my arm. And grasps it. I try to shake him off unobtrusively, but he tightens his hold. He turns to the two men and tells them he will call them later. They call out their goodbyes and leave together, and Rupert turns his attention to me.
‘I was wondering, just the other day, what the devil happened to you. How’ve you been, gorgeous?’
‘I’m fine, but I’m late and I really must be going. It was nice to see you again, though.’
‘What’s the rush? Come and have coffee with me,’ he invites. His voice is genial and wheedling, but I still have the memory of his oyster-flavored saliva pouring down my throat, his finger digging into my crotch, seeking rough entry. If only I am big enough and strong enough to be able to say, ‘Don’t stop, don’t look at me, don’t touch me. Walk on by.’ But I am not big enough and I remember the sheer male strength of his rugby player’s hands as he pinned me against the wall and abused me.
‘Perhaps some other time.’ I take a step back, but he refuses to relinquish his hold on my hand. ‘Are you still with him?’
‘That’s really none of your business.’
‘As a matter of fact, I am looking for some business. Are you available? Same terms as before.’
I twist my arm and try to wrench it free, but his grip is like an iron clamp. The fury that I never expressed before rises like bile inside me. Without thinking I bring my other arm up and hit him, and instantly he lets go of my arm, and throws a punch in my direction. It should have hit me square in the face, but it only glances my chin. I stare in surprise as he lands on the ground. Flat on his back. Out cold. I look up dazed. A man is standing in front of me. I stare at him. The blood thrums in my ears.
‘Are you all right?’ he asks solicitously. He is looking at my chin.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Good. You best be on your way, then.’
‘What about him?’ I glance at Rupert, sprawled, unmoving. He could even be dead for all I know.
‘Don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure he is all right.’
I nod, but the whole thing is surreal. The speed with which this man arrived on the scene and the swift, totally professional move that floored a huge man like Rupert. I look again at the man. He has sandy hair, a fit, wiry body and flinty eyes. Dressed in a black shirt, leather jacket and blue jeans, he could be anybody off the street, but I know he is not. He did not appear here by accident.
His kindness is a mirage. Pay him the right money and he will just as easily break my neck. I take a step away from him.
‘Don’t forget your shopping,’ he reminds me politely.
I turn and look at the shopping bag lying on the sidewalk. The pink shirt is poking out. I pick it up and without a word, without thanking him, I walk away quickly. As if I am running away from the scene of a crime. Perhaps I am.
I walk for God knows how long, my mind in turmoil. I come upon crowded walkways where people brush past me, but I feel nothing. When it finally dawns on me, I come to a dead stop suddenly. A woman runs into me and swears inelegantly. She loses her anger when I turn around to apologize. She looks at my chin, mumbles something and walks on.
I walk towards the wall of a building and lean against it.
Finally, one more piece in the mad puzzle. That is why Blake suddenly turned up at the apartment when Jack came to visit. And why he appeared so unexpectedly, his behavior so odd and secretive that day when Victoria’s mother made contact and he suddenly whisked me away to Venice to hide, to think, and to regroup. And that too is how he knew to smell my face the day I kissed Jack.
He has always had me followed. The whole fucking time.
I feel angry and confused. Why? Why would he spy on me? He is so full of secrets. So mysterious.
By the time I reach the apartment I feel lost and unbearably sad. My entire life is a messy lie. Being secretly followed and watched seems an extension of all the other lies that my relationship with Blake entails. I open the front door and Blake comes striding towards me. Of course. He already knows about Rupert. I stand at the door and stare at him. His hair is disheveled, his tie has been pulled loose and is hanging a few inches away from his throat. But it is his eyes that I cannot look away from. I have never seen his eyes so wild with fear.
He lays a gentle hand on my throbbing chin. I flinch slightly. Immediately, he retracts his hand, and I swear I see tears swimming in his eyes. Then he pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. I hear him take a deep breath.
‘I’ve been sick with fear. Where have you been all this time?’ he asks in a hushed voice.
‘I was walking.’
‘Why did you switch your phone off?’
‘I didn’t. My battery was low. It must have died.’
‘Oh God, Lana. Don’t do that to me again.’
He takes a step away from me. ‘He grabbed you. Did he hurt you anywhere else?’
I shake my head, but he pulls the sleeves of my coat and examines my arms. He touches the light bruises and looks at me. There is pain in his eyes. ‘I have taken care of that bastard. He will never hurt another woman in his life again.’
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so much nothing else matters. But I don’t say it. I can’t. Something is very wrong. I cannot only think of myself. There is more than just me in this equation. There is Sorab. And I will love him the way my mother loved me. I will give him everything. And everything could mean no Blake EVER. Victoria’s mother’s words are still fresh. ‘You and your son are in grave danger.’ It would appear she was right.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I am in such pain I feel sick.
‘What?’ he asks worriedly.
‘Nothing,’ I say. But I actually feel dizzy. If he was not here, I would throw myself on the bed and howl—because I cannot have this man. I grit my teeth.
‘Come,’ he says and taking my hand leads me to the bedroom. His plan is simple. As Billie would say—he is a man, what can you expect? He wants me to sleep. When I wake up it will be all OK.
So I let him put me to bed. I watch him with blank eyes. I know he doesn’t understand. And that he never will. Men are strong in a physical way, they don’t know how to be strong in an emotional way. He thinks if I have no bruises I have no pain. I grasp his hand. ’Why did you have me followed?’
Forty 2 Days Page 13