Warhol's Prophecy

by Shaun Hutson

  Again she caught that heavy scorn in his voice.

  ‘It’s called Relate,’ she told him.

  ‘What difference does the name make? It does the same job, doesn’t it?’

  ‘And what job’s that? What job do you think it’s supposed to do, Rob?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m going to sit with Becky,’ he said, throwing the tea towel onto the worktop. ‘Perhaps she needs someone to keep an eye on her.’

  He was out of the kitchen before Hailey could reply.

  She heard his footsteps on the stairs.

  Despite the fact that the television was on, the volume was low and Hailey wasn’t really paying much attention to the programme. It was a soap opera – wasn’t it always? She merely gazed blankly at the screen, listening as Rob made his way down the stairs, then into the kitchen. A moment later he wandered into the sitting room and sat down in the chair on the other side of the room, his gaze straying first to the TV and then to the daily paper lying on the coffee table close to him. He picked it up and flipped it around to the sports pages.

  ‘Did you read her a story?’ Hailey asked.

  ‘She was tired anyway,’ Rob answered. ‘It didn’t take long for her to drop off. Not surprising really, is it? I mean, she’s had a lot of excitement today – if that’s what you want to call it.’

  He continued looking at the paper.

  ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Rob, drop it, will you?’ Hailey said wearily.

  He lowered the paper.

  ‘Drop it? Our daughter gets lost in one of the biggest shopping centres in the country, and you say “Drop it.” What the hell were you doing?’

  ‘I knew this was coming. You think it’s my fault, don’t you?’

  ‘Do you have any idea what could have happened to her?’

  ‘I spent nearly an hour thinking about nothing else.’

  ‘You weren’t going to tell me, were you?’

  ‘No. Because I knew you’d react like this.’

  ‘How do you expect me to react?’

  ‘With a little bit of understanding. I went through hell this afternoon until they found her.’

  ‘And you just decided not to tell me?’

  ‘Don’t start lecturing me about deceit, Rob. You’re not really in a position to do that, are you?’

  He raised his hands. ‘Change the record, Hailey,’ he said irritably.

  She glared at him.

  She was about to speak again when she heard the two-tone door-chime. Flashing him one final, angry glance, she got to her feet and headed for the door, from habit peering through the spyhole before she opened it.

  As she waited on the doorstep, Caroline Hacket rubbed her hands together.

  ‘It’s getting colder,’ she commented as Hailey let her in.

  Caroline slipped off her long grey coat to reveal a dark sweatshirt and jeans beneath. She draped the coat over the bannister and turned to Hailey, seeing how pale and drawn she looked.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she wanted to know.

  Hailey nodded. ‘Becky’s fast asleep,’ she said, reaching for her own coat that hung on the rack behind her. ‘We’ll be back by nine.’

  Caroline touched her friend’s arm and nodded. She turned as Rob appeared in the doorway to the sitting room.

  ‘How’s things in the world of big business, Rob?’ Caroline asked, smiling.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said, forcing a return smile that appeared more like a leer. He pulled on a jacket and dug in his pocket for the car keys. He then wandered outside, and a couple of minutes later Hailey heard the engine of the Audi throb into life.

  ‘You know where everything is, don’t you?’ said Hailey.

  ‘I should do by now,’ Caroline told her. ‘Go on. Everything will be fine. I’ll see you later.’

  Hailey closed the door behind her and headed towards the passenger side of the waiting Audi.

  ‘Everything will be fine.’

  How badly she wanted to believe that.

  7

  THE ROOM WAS small. No more than fifteen feet square. Sparsely furnished. It contained little except three chairs, a filing cabinet and a small coffee table. The walls were plain, their banality not even enlivened by a photograph or a painting.

  The consultation room reminded Rob of a cell.

  Cigarette smoke hung in the air like a curtain of dirty gauze, and the ashtray on the table next to a box of Kleenex was already full. Hailey and Rob were both smoking, watched with something approaching disapproval by the woman who sat in the room with them.

  Marie Anderson was in her early forties: a small woman with the kind of outrageously rosy cheeks that made her look like a badly painted doll. She looked from Hailey to Rob, and then back again. For three weeks they had been attending these Relate sessions. For three weeks she had listened to their pain and their anger spilling out into this small room. And what she had heard from them she had heard a hundred times before, from a hundred different couples.

  Words like ‘Betrayal’, ‘Infidelity’, ‘Anger’, ‘Revenge’ . . .

  ‘Hatred’.

  Marie often wondered if her role was merely that of referee to these bouts of emotional pugilism. She had voiced her concerns about that to some of her colleagues, but found they saw their own roles as something similar. They were there to guide, to cajole, to interpret; they were not there to solve problems. They could not wave magic wands and reassemble marriages shattered by infidelity or a hundred other kinds of indiscretion.

  The thing that Marie had found most difficult when she first began as a Relate counsellor was distancing herself from the personal problems of those she advised. It had been difficult then to merely lock up the office and walk home after every evening’s emotional upheavals. As time went on, Marie had found it all a little more bearable, but every now and then she was more deeply touched than she should be by the plight of a particular couple or individual. She wondered if even that would wear off in time. Was it ever possible to become immune to pain? And, if so, how long did it take?

  Hailey stared at Marie, as if willing her to force an answer from Rob. Wanting her to make him reply to the question she had asked him a moment ago.

  He took another drag on his cigarette, and blew out a stream of smoke to join the grey haze already filling the confined space.

  ‘Can you see why Hailey is still so upset, Rob?’ Marie said finally, her voice soft. ‘She’s still concerned that your affair might begin again.’

  ‘I can understand it, but it won’t happen,’ he said.

  ‘As long as she works with you, the temptation’s always there,’ Hailey intervened.

  ‘So what do you want me to do: sack her?’ he demanded.

  ‘If that’s what it takes.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Not fair,’ Hailey snorted. ‘She had an affair with you. It could happen again. No wonder her husband divorced her.’

  ‘I told you, I won’t let it happen again.’

  ‘Crap. If she comes on to you, you’ll fuck her. I know you, Rob. You’re weak.’

  ‘If the only way to reassure Hailey that you wouldn’t have another affair with this woman was to get rid of her, would you be willing to do that, Rob?’ Marie wanted to know.

  He took another drag and tilted his head back, a headache crawling around his skull.

  ‘Look, if I sack Sandy and get another secretary, Hailey will start thinking I’m having an affair with her.’

  ‘It depends what she looks like,’ Hailey said acidly.

  ‘Do you think Rob would do this again, Hailey?’ Marie asked.

  ‘I know what he’s like, especially with attractive women. He likes to be surrounded by them. It boosts his ego.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Rob muttered.

  ‘It’s true,’ Hailey continued. ‘If you did hire another secretary, you’d make sure she was good-looking. Don’t deny it.’

  ‘All right, it’s true. If two women came for the job, both with the same qu
alifications, and one was pretty and the other looked like the back of a fucking bus, I’d hire the good-looking one. Satisfied?’

  ‘Is that the reason you first got to know Hailey?’ Marie asked. ‘Because she’s good-looking?’

  He nodded. ‘But it wasn’t just that. It was her sense of humour, her attitude, the way she made me laugh. It just helped that she was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.’

  ‘And is she still?’ Marie asked.

  He nodded.

  ‘Does she still make you laugh? Do you still like her attitude and her sense of humour?’ the counsellor continued.

  ‘Of course I do. I never intended to leave her for Sandy. I would never leave her for anyone else.’

  ‘So why did you fuck that slag, then?’ rasped Hailey.

  ‘Because I could,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t know what else to say. How many times do I have to tell you?’

  ‘That isn’t a good enough reason,’ Hailey persisted. ‘There must have been more to it.’

  ‘Did you feel that there was something missing from your relationship with Hailey?’ Marie enquired.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Look, you could strap me into an electric chair now and ask me why I did it, and I still couldn’t tell you. You’d have to throw the switch. I never fell out of love with you – ’ he looked towards Hailey – ‘I never fell in love with Sandy. I was never going to leave you. I never wanted to.’

  ‘Did she want you to?’ Hailey demanded.

  ‘She knew exactly where she stood. She knew there was no future in it.’

  ‘Yeah, I bet she did,’ Hailey hissed. ‘She knew you were married, so why the hell couldn’t she leave you alone, find someone single? Or did she keep nagging away at you because she knew you’d give in? Did she know you were weak, too?’

  Rob shot her an angry glance.

  ‘I know what I did was wrong,’ he replied furiously. ‘How many fucking times do I have to say sorry? If I said it every minute of every day, every day for the rest of my life, it wouldn’t alter what’s happened, would it?’

  ‘Do you wish you could change what happened, Rob?’ Marie interjected.

  He nodded.

  ‘Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,’ Hailey muttered.

  ‘Yeah, I wish I could change what happened,’ Rob said. ‘I wish things could just be the way they were between us before all this shit.’

  ‘Shit that you started,’ Hailey reminded him.

  Again he glared at her.

  ‘That’s what makes me sick,’ Hailey continued. ‘You were the one who had the affair, and yet you’re the one who’s angry. Why?’

  ‘Because I want things between us to go back to the way they were. I hate this arguing, sniping all the time. Every time we have an argument you throw it back in my fucking face.’

  ‘What do you expect?’

  ‘Is that true, Rob?’ Marie wanted to know. ‘Are you angry? There certainly seems to be a lot of aggression inside you. Who is it directed at? Hailey?’

  ‘It should be directed at her,’ Hailey spat. ‘At that fucking whore.’

  ‘It’s not just her fault: it takes two to tango.’

  ‘See, you’re doing it again. You always defend her.’

  ‘I’m not defending her. I’m just trying to tell you what I feel, what I believe. I went after her.’

  ‘Then she should have told you to clear off, since she knew you were married. But she wouldn’t do that, would she? Being chatted up by the boss, being taken out for lunch, being taken away for weekends. Why should she give all that up? God, she must have thought you were her dream come true.’

  ‘I don’t know what she thought. I don’t care what she thought.’

  ‘Do you think your marriage is worth saving, Rob?’ Marie asked.

  ‘Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here,’ he told her.

  ‘I’ve told you before, you have to accept that there’s been a lot of pain and that things won’t go back to normal overnight. They’ll probably never go back to the way they were before this happened. Your relationship will grow stronger if you let it; it’ll just have a different shape.’

  ‘Yeah, a fucking pear-shape,’ Rob murmured, stubbing out his cigarette.

  ‘How long did you expect it to take before things got better between you?’ Marie asked.

  Rob shook his head.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ he confessed. ‘Some days things are fine: we manage to get through a whole day and night without all this shit being raked up. And on other days it just goes on and on.’

  ‘At least you’re off at work,’ Hailey snapped. ‘I’m stuck at home with the time to think about it, time to wonder if you’re chatting up that bloody tart while you’re there together in the office, wondering what you’re saying to her.’

  ‘Then stop thinking about it.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake . . .’ Hailey shook her head despairingly.

  She saw Marie glance at the wall clock behind them.

  Time up.

  They’d been there for their allotted hour.

  Doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun?

  Hailey was first to get to her feet, running a hand through her brown hair and exhaling deeply.

  They made an appointment for the same time the following week, said their goodbyes, then headed out to the small car park where the Audi was waiting.

  As Hailey clambered into the passenger seat, she thought how cold it had grown. How chilly the night air was.

  She looked briefly at Rob as he started the engine.

  As he did, the cassette burst into life too, the lyrics echoing inside the car.

  ‘. . . Will you be there, am I the one who waits for you, or are you unforgiven too? . . .’

  They didn’t speak during the drive home.

  8

  THE SILENCE WAS oppressive.

  Broken only by the steady click-click of Hailey’s high heels on the polished floor of the corridor, it seemed to surround her like a blanket.

  She walked slowly, eyes fixed ahead, not glancing left or right, concerned only with the door at the far end of the corridor. It was dark wood polished so vigorously it practically shone.

  Hailey paused at the door and wondered whether or not she should knock.

  As she waited, she turned and looked behind her.

  The corridor was empty.

  It was filled only with that deafening silence.

  She shifted slowly from one foot to the other, embarrassed by the noise her heels made on the floor. She raised herself up onto her toes to minimize the tattoo they clattered out. She tapped gently on the door, then walked in without invitation.

  The room was barely twenty feet square and, if anything, the silence here was even more palpable than out in the corridor.

  Red velvet curtains were draped across the far wall, and between them was suspended a large wooden cross. On either side of it two candles burned, their flames unmoved by the slightest breeze.

  There were two tables inside the room, the occupant of each covered by a heavy black cloth.

  Hailey tried to suck in a breath, but the air seemed as static as it was noiseless. At least her heels made no sound on the thick carpet as she moved towards the first of the tables.

  She thrust out a hand and gripped the edge of the dark cloth, preparing to ease it back, but also afraid to.

  She closed her eyes so tightly that white stars danced behind her lids, and she tried again to breathe deeply.

  Hailey lifted the cloth . . .

  Becky’s body seemed a mass of dark blue, violet and yellow bruises. Hardly an inch of flesh seemed to have escaped the massive onslaught – not even her face. The skin around her eyes was so swollen that the orbs seemed to have sunk down into the skull itself. Those few areas of her body that weren’t discoloured looked as white as milk.

  Two jagged cuts bisected her throat: hacked so deeply into the flesh that her head was practically severed. The two savage gashes joined to form one
bloodied chasm that, to Hailey’s tortured gaze, looked like another mouth smiling obscenely up at her.

  She wanted to scream, wanted to cry out, but it was as if her emotions were as paralysed as her larynx. All she could do was stare helplessly at Becky’s body. She wanted so much to touch it. To hold it one last time. Embrace it. Kiss those ragged, torn lips, to say sorry.

  Sorry for letting her get lost in the crowded shopping centre.

  Sorry that she couldn’t help her now.

  Hailey felt a solitary tear run down her cheek.

  She turned towards the second table, pulling the cloth away with more certainty.

  There were two bodies on this one.

  Unblemished. Uninjured.

  Both naked.

  They were locked together in an embrace, pressed urgently against each other.

  As one, their heads turned towards her and they smiled.

  Her husband and Sandy Bennett.

  Both naked. Both smiling.

  From behind her she heard movement and she turned to see that Becky had sat up.

  She was pointing at the entwined figures opposite – and laughing.

  But she was laughing through that gaping rent in her throat.

  It was then that Hailey finally began to scream.

  9

  PROPELLED FROM HER nightmare with ferocious speed, Hailey sat bolt upright, breathing in gasps.

  She looked around her, at details of the room.

  It took a second or two for her to realize that there was no velvet draped across one wall, no thick carpet. No tables bearing the bodies of her daughter or of her husband and his lover.

  Instead she saw the luminous red digits of the radio alarm, the bedside lamps, the outline of built-in wardrobes across the room.

  Normality.

  She swallowed hard and let out a deep breath, the last residue of the nightmare fading slowly.

  Rob rolled over and saw her sitting up, eyes staring wide, unkempt hair plastered across one cheek.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, reaching out to touch her arm.

  She nodded.

  ‘Bad dream?’ His voice was thick with sleep.

  She lay down and felt him snake one arm around her shoulder, drawing her towards him.