Twisted Agendas

by Damian McNicholl

  “I like you Finty and I’d like to know you better.” His face flushed. He felt exposed. He looked away toward Mrs. Hartley’s garden where a magpie, perched in the shade of her chestnut tree, was watching him. Superstitious, Danny scoured the tree and beyond, needing urgently to see a second one. There wasn’t any.

  “Okay,” she said. “What can I tell you?”

  He turned back to her. “Start with your work.” He held out the wine bottle and she brought her glass up to its opening so he could refill it.

  “Psychological assistant sounds very grand but it’s really just a fancy name for doing anything I’m told to do.”

  As she described working with young offenders in the Probation Service, some of whom were very troubled, he watched spellbound. The sun played with her dark hair, making its natural red and copper highlights glint and sparkle. He imagined its softness between his fingers. Her full mouth and parting lips as she spoke sent shivers through his body.

  “Talk about pent-up rage,” she said. “Poor kid sat opposite me at a table for nearly an hour and didn’t speak, just stared at his hands or looked past me to the wall.”

  “Why was he locked up?”

  He wanted badly to lean over and kiss her, to run the tip of his tongue along her slender neck. He wanted to put his hand inside her T-shirt and cup her breasts.

  “Slashed his sister’s face with a knife when she caught him taking money from her room.”

  The words cut into his thoughts. He nearly dropped his wine glass on the flagstone platform.

  “I didn’t know your job was so dangerous.”

  “I bet you’re sorry you asked about it now?”

  “No. It’s just… ”

  “I love my job and hope it’ll become full-time at some point. These kids have very little going for them.”

  Her flashing eyes were now wide open windows. Danny saw the intense conviction she felt. It was a side of her character he’d suspected she had and he loved her now it was revealed. He rose off his chair and moved toward her before the logical side of his brain could order him to stop. Stooping, he put his hands against the sides of her face and kissed her on the mouth. As soon as his lips pressed against hers, the spell broke. He opened his eyes and wondered what the hell he’d done. Still, he wasn’t sorry. Her lips were as lush as he imagined. No, far more than he imagined. She made no effort to rebuff him. Her hands hung in the air for a moment and then she put them around the back of his head. Emboldened, he slipped his tongue into her parted lips. Again, she reciprocated. He eased her gently to her feet, their kiss still unbroken. But the process of activating body muscles required superimposing thoughts and, a moment later, she pulled away.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I have to leave.”

  “It’s only five.”

  “I… I have a boyfriend.” She gathered her notes hastily and stuffed them into her bag. “I shouldn’t have let this happen. Please don’t think badly of me.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “We live together.”

  The muscle cords in Danny’s neck tightened.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for… ” She started toward the French doors. “I’ll see you in class next week.”

  “Finty, wait a minute.” He ran after her.

  She’d already crossed the living room and was opening the front door when he got inside.

  “Finty!”

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes glittered with tears.

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.” His words sounded as hollow as he felt. “Can we stay friends?”

  “I’d like that, Danny. A lot.”

  He watched her walk away. He watched until she turned into King Street. Still, he stood rooted, staring now at the vacant air she’d just occupied. Inside, he threw himself on the sofa just as the phone rang. He rushed to it. No-one spoke.

  “You fucking weirdo, stop calling here.”

  He listened again and thought he heard people talking or perhaps it was a radio or television in the background. He slammed the receiver down.

  Lunch with Mom

  Several things struck Piper like she was now a tourist in her own city. They were things she would never have thought about had she not lived for the past year overseas. She kept forgetting the subway was air-conditioned and was always delighted by the refreshing cold air smacking into her sweating face every time the doors opened and she stepped into a carriage from the stifling platform. She also persistently forgot the map of the subway grid was adjacent to the train’s doors and not above the window as on a London tube, and kept checking there first to see which station the train was next approaching. Another thing was the raw energy on the Manhattan streets, so different in character to London’s well-mannered busyness, an energy intensified by the brash presence of colossal skyscrapers, wide avenues and jets of pristine white steam curling from manholes in the streets. And there was also the energy from the traffic. Nowhere did drivers honk more than in New York City. The final thing was the food served in the restaurants and delis: bagels containing a quarter pound or more of cream cheese, challenging sandwiches piled so high with sliced meats and cheeses they were lopsided, and colossal burgers served alongside a mountain of fries, or plates of steaming pasta, and steaks so enormous they were obscene. It was little wonder so many of her countrymen and women were obese, or dying of heart disease and diabetes related illnesses.

  After exiting the train at Chambers Street, she made her way up to street level. A wall of searing heat slapped her face. The sun’s glare forced her to narrow her eyes as she looked up to take in the view of the twin towers in the near distance. That was actually another thing: she’d forgotten how brutally hot Manhattan was in the summer. London never got this kind of energy draining humidity. When she arrived five minutes later at the law office, she felt she’d been exercising in a dry sauna because her face, cleavage and arms glistened with perspiration. The firm was situated on the fourth floor of a pre-war office block. Its reception was panelled floor to ceiling in English library style dark wood. A corridor nearby the reception desk ran to the attorneys’ offices within the heart of the floor. Behind her, a client reading the Wall Street Journal occupied the nearest of two sumptuous maroon leather couches separated by an oversized solid oak table. Invited by the friendly receptionist to take a seat, she sat on the other couch, took out a portion of her dissertation and began to proofread.

  Five minutes later, her mother came out. “Hey, Phila.” She opened her long arms in preparation to embrace as she approached.

  Piper was shocked by her mother’s youthfulness. She’d expected her to be on the plumpish side still, but her body was taut and defined. Tanned thighs disappeared above a fashionably cut summer dress. Gone was the bluntly cut dark hair well threaded with grey, replaced by a lopsided bob that made her look not unlike Linda Evangilista. Only faint lines around her eyes and a softening of the cheeks and chin belied she was forty-six years of age.

  “What’s happened to you, Mom?”

  Her mother laughed.

  “You’ve been working out.”

  “Not too shabby, huh. What can I say? Gotta keep myself healthy.”

  Her mother ran her hand up and down her left arm. “I thought we’d eat at an Italian restaurant I know two blocks from here. They make a killer chicken parm and serve whole wheat pasta.”

  The restaurant was already packed with bankers and lawyers from the World Trade Center, many wearing de-rigueur lightweight summer suits and chatting animatedly into cell phones. She took her mother’s recommendation and ordered the chicken parmesan but had a glass of white wine in addition to the large bottle of sparkling water her mother selected.

  “You’ve been here three days already, huh?” her mother said, as she returned the menu card to the waiter.

  “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. It’s just… ”

  “What am I thinking?” Her mother broke a piece of b
read and dipped it in the plate of golden olive oil.

  “That I didn’t get in touch sooner. I’ve got this dissertation and I’m researching like crazy.”

  “You don’t have to apologise.”

  “I’m not.”

  They fell silent. Her mother chewed bread as she looked about. Piper watched a dust strewn construction worker whose upper body and arms bounced as he drilled into the pavement with a jackhammer.

  “By the way, I meant to say you’re looking good as well,” her mother said. “You’ve dropped round your face and it suits you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Phila, you should think about growing your hair again. It’s kinda severe so short. I always liked it shoulder-length. Remember how you wore it in the eleventh grade?”

  “Call me Piper like I asked? Yesterday, I started the process to get it changed.”

  “That’s the kind of research you’ve been doing.”

  “Mom, please.”

  “What’s wrong with Philomena anyway?”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s my name.”

  Another silence occurred that was broken by the waiter’s arrival with their house salads. Pointing a huge pepper mill, he asked Piper if she wanted some. She nodded.

  “How much pepper you wanting, Phi… Piper?” her mother asked, staring wide-eyed at the bowl.

  Piper nodded at the waiter. She stuck the fork into the greens and began to toy with them. “Why do we always end up doing this, Mom?”

  “Doing what?”

  “We’re together half-an-hour and already arguing.”

  “We’re not arguing. It’s only because we’re alike.” She popped a cherry tomato in her mouth. “You were always your own person. Look how you went off to England. Not every girl would do that.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  “It is.” Her mother took a sip of water. “How’s your father?”

  “As well as to be expected.”

  “Which means what, exactly?”

  “He’s renting an apartment on the Lower East Side now, Mom. It’s tiny. His rent’s sky-high because the area’s gentri-fying.”

  “And that’s my fault, how exactly?”

  “You made him sell our home.”

  “Half that house was mine. I needed the cash to put myself through law school.” She picked up her fork. “He should buy if it’s gentrifying. He’ll make a bundle in a couple of years.”

  “I thought the law firm’s paying.”

  “Only after I graduate. Until then, I’m on my own.” Her mother pushed her plate aside. “Anyway, that wasn’t a home. You’re smart. You know that.”

  “Hmm.”

  “There’s still time to change your mind about being a bridesmaid.” Her mother leaned away slightly to allow the waiter space to place the bowl of bowtie pasta with pesto in front of her.

  “I’m still going to pass.”

  “Fair enough. You’re still up for meeting Juan, aren’t you?”

  “Aha.”

  “You’ll like him.”

  “I will?”

  While the food was delicious, Piper didn’t feel hungry anymore. Her mother inquired about the state of her finances and plans for the future, questions Piper responded to with concise vagueness.

  “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” Her mother’s fork was poised halfway between her plate and mouth. “You’re about to get a Masters diploma and still don’t know what you want to do.”

  “That’s it.”

  “You’re unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Do you know how many women would love to be in your position?”

  “How many, Mom?”

  “If you come back to New York, you’d find a job with an investment bank starting at… ” The wrinkles around her mother’s eyes deepened as her face puckered in concentration. “Oh, I’d say over a 100k, easy.”

  “I’ve just turned twenty-four, Mom. I’ve got time.”

  “Time goes fast, Piper. I was twenty-three when I had you. You need to start building up a solid work history. It ain’t so easy. You’ll find out.”

  “You’re starting over and it seems to be working fine.”

  Her mother regarded her for a moment before stirring her fork around the pasta. “You seeing anyone?”

  She told her about Todd, his family in California and their plans to live together when he returned to London.

  “Sounds like I’ll have to meet him. By the way, you been out to see Rory yet?”

  So abrupt was the transition, Piper dropped her fork. It hit the plate with a loud rattle before sliding onto the table. She’d known the conversation would turn to her brother, just hadn’t expected it at that moment. Her mother’s eyes zeroed in on the splotch of tomato sauce beside Piper’s plate, as if she were scouring for evidence of guilt.

  “Changing a name sure takes a lot of time,” said her mother.

  She decided to ignore the barb. “Tell me all about you going back to school again, Mom. You excited?”

  The remainder of their lunch was spent talking about her mother’s career plans and upcoming wedding. On the way back to the office, her mother accompanied Piper to the Chambers Street subway where they briefly embraced at the entrance. After they parted, Piper didn’t go downstairs immediately. She lingered, watching her mother merge into the city throng, lifting her manicured hand and running her fingers ever so carefree through her hair.

  Striking a deal

  Someone grabbed hold of the car door and she couldn’t shut it. Julia peered up through the triangle of shadowed space to see Katie’s husband, his shoulder length salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a ponytail.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I need to speak to you.”

  “About?”

  “There’s three in my marriage and it’s feeling a bit crowded.”

  She almost burst out laughing. “Your marriage is between you and Katie.”

  “Please, I really need to talk to you.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Julia spotted movement. Mrs. Hartley emerged from her house with a broom.

  “It’ll have to be quick because I’m running late.”

  “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  “Let’s go into my house.”

  They crossed the street in silence. Though she heard the rustle of the broom on the concrete pavement. Julia felt Mrs. Hartley’s eyes bore into the back of her head as she turned the key in the door.

  Over six-foot, Harry made the living room seem suddenly very small. She was glad to see Danny was in the kitchen.

  “This is Katie’s husband,” she said.

  As he came up from the kitchen to greet him, she noticed his shock despite the wide smile.

  “Have a seat,” Julia said, and pointed to an armchair while she sat on the sofa.

  “What exactly do you want to talk about?”

  He looked at Danny, then back at her, as if he expected her to ask him to leave.

  “Danny knows about Katie.”

  “Does he know she’s the mother of two young children?”

  “I’ll give you some privacy to talk.” Danny started hurriedly toward the stairs.

  “You don’t have to leave,” Julia said. She nodded furtively when she caught Danny’s eye. He returned to the kitchen.

  “I know my wife’s been staying here a lot lately.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Has Katie told you?”

  “I know.”

  “Katie’s talked to you while she’s been here?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not with you then.”

  “I’ve followed her… and I’ve rang here because I knew she’s been with you.”

  She looked toward the Danny. “Have you spoken to Harry on the phone?”

  “Actually, I didn’t speak to anybody,” Harry said, as he started to massage his forehead. “I wanted to speak to her and tell her
to come home, but I couldn’t do it. I knew in my heart if I asked to speak to her while she was here, it’d be the end of my marriage.”

  There was a sudden clatter as cutlery hit the base of the sink. She looked over at Danny. It all made sense now. Every time the prank calls occurred, Katie’d been here.

  “That’s called stalking, Harry.”

  “I apologise.”

  Julia was silent for a moment. “Katie comes here of her own free will. I don’t beg her.”

  “That’s why I’ve come to see you.” He pinched his Adam’s apple and then bent forward in his chair. “I love my wife. She’s a very good mother. We’ve been very happy.” He stood and began to massage his forehead again, then sat and leaned toward Julia. His face was now scarlet. “You seem like a reasonable woman. I’m not a fool. I know Katie has needs I can’t satisfy. But the children need her.”

  “I’m sure Katie knows what she’s doing and won’t hurt them.”

  “Aren’t they already hurting?”

  Julia stood. “This is really between you and Katie. Besides, it doesn’t feel right discussing this without her being here.”

  “I doubt she discusses me or my children when she’s here screwing you.” He cupped his chin in his large right hand and shook his head. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

  “I really can’t help you. You should leave.”

  “Julia, let him speak,” Danny said. He approached with a handful of knives and forks in his hand. “What he’s saying’s true. They have children who need both their… ”

  “This isn’t any of your business.”

  “I know you now, Julia. You wouldn’t want the children to get hurt. You need to work out something with Harry and Katie.”

  She stared at Danny without speaking.

  “Anyway, I’ve said my piece.” He set the cutlery on the coffee table and went up the stairs.

  She turned back to Harry. “What do you suggest?”

  “I’m not asking you to stop seeing my wife. I know that won’t happen. Even if it did, she’ll meet another woman at some point.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I’m a pragmatic chap,” he said, and smiled wanly. “I’m prepared to accept an arrangement between the three of us for the sake of the children… and because I love my wife. All I ask in return is you don’t pressure her to leave us.”