by Potter, John
He exaggerated nodding, watching her hopeful eyes. ‘I promise to be on my very best behaviour.’
‘We haven’t got time. We need to get ready.’
‘We’ve got all weekend to go shopping. Come here,’ he repeated.
‘I’ll make the sheets wet.’
‘I hope so.’
She hesitated, caught between decisions. ‘You’re changing them.’
He nodded.
‘Promise?’
He nodded again and immediately forgot. Her desire and his expectation hardening him beneath the sheets.
‘Then you have permission to touch,’ she said, although she did not really like being touched, at least without invitation.
She placed a knee on the edge of their bed and leaned towards him. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, tracing the curve of her back through damp trails of water as she kissed him closed mouthed, which was how she always kissed without compromise. She reached across and placed her cup squarely on a coaster, then sat back and tugged free her towel, revealing a bikini shaped triangle of white flesh and neatly trimmed pubic hair. She pulled the duvet from his body, revealing him naked. Her fingers closed around the shaft of hard flesh, squeezing, an eyebrow cocked as she looked at him with a nervous smile. As intimate in the realm of foreplay as she ever got. She crawled onto all fours and kissed him again, whispered into his ear.
‘Please me husband, and please be gentle.’ She rolled onto the bed beside him, onto her back, eyes wide and watching.
He let his fingers drift, creating a slow pace in her mind while replenishing the tactile memory of her body in his. He kissed her shoulder and tried not to loom over her, drifting his mouth down across her chest, lingering at her nipples, down to her stomach, letting his breath roll warm across her skin. Her body lay rigid.
He eased open her legs and as his tongue found moist flesh, the first tremor of pleasure rippled through her body. He resisted his own need to push her legs wide, to satisfy his own want rampaging inside, letting her relax to the trusted touch of his tongue, calves tapping against the back of his arms, resting on his shoulders, gradually opening her legs wider as she lost herself.
His tongue danced and nurtured the tension, building a fire that marched a blush breathless across her stomach, up her chest and to her neck. Holding her on the brink, tantalising as her body writhed, fingers locked in his hair, pulling him into her restless groin, holding her in the moment until she could stand no more, reaching her gasped tremulous conclusion. It was the only way he could pleasure her, and he immediately wondered how long before the next time, with her legs open with breathless abandon. Weeks, sometimes months.
He fought again the need to push into her, to take from her what he needed. Instead he kissed the inside of her thigh and moved slowly forward, feeling the damp promise of her flesh on the tip of his. Then her eyes flared to wide panic and she jacked her palms against his chest, rolling him aside. He immediately bottled his frustration, taking a deep breath. A moment’s silence was usually followed by her quiet apology, a tension that took days to dilute. Except this time she eased him back and climbed onto him, taking him aching into her hand, lowering herself down. He felt her flesh warm as it eased over his, encompassing, then very slowly rising up and down in turn.
These moments made up for almost everything. He revelled in the sensation, Sarah moving to an increasing rhythm, with flushed cheeks and earnest eyes, the visual and tactile beauty of her body a priceless feast. The repeated friction of pelvis on pelvis gradually turning her earnest face to determined. She placed her hands flat on his chest, pulled her legs up to a squat and leaned back with her hands now on his thighs. Opening her legs decadently wide for him she thumped down hard.
Adam’s sense of delirium immediately burst, giving himself to the unstoppable as her movement slowed and he pumped then ebbed into her. Bottling his frustration again, he managed a contented sigh as she half clambered, half fell onto the bed, effecting a giggle as she did. Then, crawling forward, she gently kissed his darkly stubbled chin. A kiss of love and apology that she held longer than he expected. She laid a hand on his chest and her head beside her hand, studying him with those innocent eyes. He winked and was rewarded with a smile that bounced his heart on elastic, watching her watching him as they caught their breath. Then she swung her legs off the bed and pulled open the curtains.
He closed his eyes, his mind restlessly flitting from thought to thought, listening as she headed to the shower, the heave of plumbing. Collecting her tea when she returned, she sat at her dresser. He kept his eyes closed, picturing the play of muscle across her narrow back. Struggling as he always did, to imagine her plunging a carving knife into any man, let alone an old man.
It was nearly four years since the police had found her, sitting shaking in her car outside the old man’s house. In a world subsequently turned upside down, the reaction of parents had been the biggest surprise to him. Sarah was vilified for dragging the past horrors suffered by their children into the public domain. It had forced them to move halfway across the country.
Her lawyer said she was lucky. The old man had survived a punctured lung and a heart attack, and the judge had been sympathetic. Adam had never considered six months in psychiatric care, and many more of debilitating tests and evaluation, any kind of lucky. Not when you considered everything else.
TWO
Simon Thompson waited in the quiet of his car, parked beside the park beneath a row of high trees, waiting for the girl.
The girl’s name was Andrea. Simon felt sorry for her. She was driven from Northampton every other Friday, just her and her dad, asleep when she arrived and carried into the dreary flat. After a trip to the pool on Saturday mornings, she was left alone all Saturday afternoon while her dad worked the door of pubs and clubs, picking her up and taking her for something to eat between shifts, before abandoning her alone in the flat to spend all night by herself, watching TV and falling asleep on the sofa.
Saturday mornings after the pool she waved farewell to her dad, walking through the park to the library where she stayed until it closed. Who could blame her for not returning to that flat? The afternoon she spent drifting in and out of shops and returning to the park, where she sat on her coat reading a book. If it was raining then she would tuck herself in the corner of a coffee shop, counting her money for the shake and big cake, studying her puzzles and busy writing her hopeful stories.
Simon knew her routine better than she because she did not comprehend routine. He knew what she would choose to do in any given circumstance, after weeks of watching her, studying the streets of this market town, the ebb and flow of the people, their attitude and attention to detail. Planning his routes of escape, his long journey home.
A pink figure appeared in his rear view mirror and slowly grew. Her hair was wet from the pool. He watched her walking along the path, expectation slithering inside as she scuffed past, those weary boots kicking through leaves. This was not the place. Like the flat there was always someone watching and too much he could not control. He knew where though. Andrea collected her dad’s prescription on Saturday afternoons and waited for him in the mouth of the alley.
THREE
Adam waited as Sarah locked her car, draping his arm across her shoulders as she drew level. They walked through the open car park to a narrow alley, its dirty red brickwork curving away to shadow, empty bags drifting in small circles at the entrance.
‘Where to first, Mrs Sawacki?’ he asked her.
She looked sideways up at him. ‘The Pine Store, we need somewhere for all your books and magazines.’
He groaned. ‘A bookcase! Where on earth would we put it?’
Sarah gave his question serious thought, as if she had not already measured and knew exactly where it would go. ‘In the corner, behind the armchair.’
‘Is there space?’
‘I think so.’
‘Maybe we could check out the estate agents first?’ he offered hop
efully.
She stopped, stunned. ‘Adam, you’re kidding? We’re not buying somewhere bigger just because you don’t tidy. The last thing we need is a move.’
‘I wasn’t thinking move away, just somewhere…’
‘Like a house,’ she finished for him, studying his face. ‘You’ve thought about this?’
‘A little.’
She pushed her hands into her coat pockets, not sure what to think. ‘I don’t want change, not yet. I love where we are, not just Hambury but the flat, our life now. We’re anonymous here, just faces in the crowd.’ Perplexed, she walked away, still talking, ‘What would be the point, can’t we just be happy in this life a while?’
They emerged from the alley into the High Street, a busy human tide surging in all directions.
‘You know I want the same things, Sarah, but…’
‘But what Adam?’ She knew of course what the but meant, that you put more than books into houses. Families lived in houses, a topic they almost always silently avoided.
Adam was not about to provoke an ice age. ‘OK! I’ll do you a deal. We take a peek at the estate agents and I’ll be your obedient shopping buddy.’
‘We simply can’t afford…’ Her voice trailed away, her eyes on his, calculating. ‘OK, let’s check your estate agents. You have any in mind?’
‘There’s some by the station.’ He was wary at her sudden turn. ‘You sure?’
‘Yes, Adam, if it’s important to you. We’re only checking them out. Then we can go buy the bookcase, and I need a new suit for work. Then we’ll feast in the market square and you can tell me all about that surprise you’ve been going on about all week.’
Which now felt far from the gleaming beacon it had. She reached up and affectionately swept the hair back from his forehead. ‘Cheer up.’
He smiled back and they started towards the station.
FOUR
Several estate agent brochures were now buried at the bottom of Sarah’s bag. The bookcase had been chosen over coffee from a shortlist compiled as they filed between stores. It was being delivered Tuesday. Adam had then spent an hour waiting outside various changing rooms while Sarah toiled over trousers and loose suits, all part of her ceaseless quest to break the pull of eyes to her body. A difficult illusion, always undone when she moved.
It was after two by the time they were seated in their favourite pizzeria. Adam’s menu lay on the table. He rarely varied his choices. Sarah was studying hers, tapping a finger against her chin, as if its contents were entirely unknown to her. He shifted his attention from her considered expression to the dynamics of those around them, couples and parents and excited children, barely-contained teenagers, sun-dried grandparents and pink-cheeked babies. The cacophony was laced with shuffled cutlery, the crash of stacked plates, and espresso steam. He craned sideways to see if two men were holding hands.
‘Five o’clock.’
He jumped. ‘Sorry?’
‘Five o’clock,’ she repeated.
He turned in his chair, following her gaze to the door. A thirty-something woman was communicating with a waiter using expressive hand gestures.
Adam turned back. ‘Wow.’ He sneaked another look as the woman took her seat by the window.
Sarah leaned in. ‘Who’s she meeting?’
‘You first,’ he returned.
She studied the woman. ‘That’s a polished look, but she’s out for the day, not meeting a man.’
‘Really?’
‘Yup,’ Sarah said confidently. ‘Definitely not meeting a man. Possibly a girlfriend but that’s a lot of razzmatazz. I’d like to see the girlfriend.’
Their waiter arrived, his pen poised. Adam ordered and then, after further consideration, Sarah made her choice. They were soon alone again.
‘Your turn,’ she said.
‘Hang on.’ He gave the woman another look; her elbows were on the table, her chin resting on steepled fingers as she stared out of the window.
He looked back at Sarah. ‘It has to be a first date, maybe a second.’
Sarah groaned loudly and heads on adjoining tables turned in their direction.
‘Sorry Sarah, I didn’t hear you?’
She reached across and smacked him on the shoulder. ‘You’re embarrassing me, Adam.’
‘I’m embarrassing you? I thought you were doing quite well by yourself.’
Smiling, Sarah rested her elbows on the table, mirroring the posture of the window woman. ‘So you think she’s meeting a man?’
‘All that effort isn’t going to be wasted for no reason.’
‘No, Adam, you would dress up to go on a first date. Maybe the second, if I recall correctly, but then you’d revert to type.’ Delivered imperiously. ‘But that whole look could be a misdirection, all that mechanism in her appearance could be designed to hide something.’ Sarah paused and contemplated. ‘Maybe a scar or something.’
‘Phew, that’s a lot of deduction from glossy hair and sparkly earrings.’
She grinned at him and took a sip of her wine. ‘In fact there’s something a little sinister about her, don’t you think? She’s deflecting attention from something.’
‘Possibly.’
They both leaned back as their food arrived. Sarah picked up her fork, using it to re-arrange the aubergines on her plate. They ate in silence, lost to individual thought while listening to the ebb and echo of the restaurant.
‘So what’s this big surprise?’ Sarah eventually asked, idly pushing her last piece of torn chicken around the plate.
The question completely wrong-footed him. He spent seconds grasping at the plausible rationale he had rehearsed.
‘Well, it’s not really that important.’
‘Really?’ She looked at him, wide eyed. ‘It’s been the big secret all week.’
‘I know, but it can wait.’
‘It bloody can’t, tell me.’
‘I’ll tell you when we get home.’
‘You will tell me now or lose me forever.’
Her eyes were sparkling, her mouth soft and smiling. Her obvious ease in the moment gave him a fool’s hope.
‘Well, you know how work gave me a new client?’ he began, cautiously.
‘The bank?’
He nodded. ‘They also offered me more money.’
‘Really, oh Adam that’s great.’ Then she leant forward and whispered, clandestinely, ‘How much?’
‘Twenty.’
‘Thousand?’
He nodded, and the air in her lungs escaped in one long burst, washing warm across his face with a hint of Valpolicella.
‘God, Adam, that’s amazing. That’s almost what I earn in a year. What made them do that?’
‘They hadn’t given me a rise for three years.’
‘I know, but from nothing to that, after so long. There must have been a reason?’ She studied his face, expectant.
There was a reason, of course, which was the detail he was worried about. He had thought about lying, but he considered lying to Sarah to be on par with taking money from children.
So he breathed in and told her. ‘I resigned.’
‘You did what!’
Heads turned in their direction. He lowered his voice, attempting to compensate for the rise in hers. ‘I resigned; but it’s cool. I knew they would come back.’
‘But…our flat.’ Scarlet crept up her neck for a second time that day as she tried to hold on to the moment. ‘What if they hadn’t come back, Adam?’
‘But they did, Sarah. It’s not like I’m unemployable if they hadn’t.’
‘You risked everything without saying anything to me?’
‘Sarah, I didn’t risk anything. I knew they would offer me a rise, they as much as told me so and I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you might be happy.’
‘I am, it’s just, well, Adam!’ She looked away, then realised the obvious. ‘So this is why the interest in estate agents?’
‘Well kind of, I’m not trying to pressure y
ou…’ He reached forward and drank some of his beer, making sure he got the next bit right. ‘It just seemed this was as good a time as any. We could check what’s out there, no rush or anything.’
Sarah stared at him thoughtfully. ‘You’re throwing me off centre, Adam. I’m perfectly happy where we are. We finally get ourselves settled after all that mess and you want to change everything. We don’t have to spend the money, we could save more.’
All that mess! He thought to himself, he knew she meant more the aftermath.
‘There’s a little more, kind of,’ he said.
‘There is?’
‘They also offered me an extra day working from home.’
Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘What is your fascination with not going to work, you should go out and meet people, you know.’
‘I meet plenty of people, Sarah.’ Frustration was eroding his reserve. ‘If I only have to commute twice a week that’s good with me. Besides, one day we might be grateful one of us can be home during the week.’ As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he could have pulled them right back.
Sarah went very still. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Having placed himself on the precipice it was now crumbling. ‘Well, you know, if we ever…’
‘Started a family. That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it?’ Suddenly she had difficulty knowing where to put her hands. ‘You know I won’t, Adam, I can’t, not a child. Not into this world.’ She gestured as if the evidence surrounded her. ‘I just can’t. Why would we want to change what we have now, after everything? You said you were indifferent about kids.’ Her last comment was loaded with hurt, as if he had lied about the one thing she valued above all.
It had been a hard day skipping around his wife’s frailties. ‘I was indifferent then, Sarah, but that was five years ago.’
‘There is no way I’m bringing a child into this world. Not me, Adam.’ She scraped back her chair and stood, her arms hanging awkwardly at her side. Her mouth opened as if she were about to say something else, but she stopped herself. Instead she grabbed her bag and turned to the toilets.