Spider

by T E kessler

  ‘Come on. Let’s grab a tea break, and then I’ll tell you,’ he said, pulling on Beth’s hand. She followed him towards the kitchen. ‘Where’s Colin?’

  ‘Upstairs. He has a cold.’

  ‘Man flu?’

  ‘More than likely.’ In the kitchen, Beth sat at the table while Harry filled the kettle.

  ‘Coffee or tea?’ he asked.

  ‘Tea. Thank you. What did James say?’ She watched impatiently as Harry moved around the kitchen, trying and failing to find cups for their tea. In the end, she got up and found them for him. Tea made, he placed a mug of tea in front of her tapping fingers and then sat down opposite.

  ‘Where are the biscuits kept?’ he asked.

  ‘Harry, just tell me what James said?’

  He grinned at her, noting her impatience. ‘In short, he told me that Jelvias wouldn’t have anything to do with kidnappings. They kill, they don’t kidnap; and if they’d wanted her dead, you’d have buried her body by now.’

  She stared at him, letting his words sink in. All along, Yash had denied taking Lara, so if he wasn’t bringing her back because he never had her, was he looking for her? Was that the deal she made with him?

  ‘Hey, that’s good news, isn’t it?’ he asked.

  She nodded and tried to pull herself together. ‘So where has James been all this time?’

  ‘In Scotland, as I thought. He said he’s practically living as a hermit while he’s studying the Jelvian psyche. He’s eccentric, to say the least. He didn’t mention Leigh once, or ask after my mum.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just as well I don’t want his help.’

  ‘We don’t want his help,’ Harry amended. ‘He was shocked when I started questioning him about Jelvias. I don’t think he expected that.’ Harry paused, his eyes searching her face. ‘I asked him if he knew a Jelvia with a spider tattoo on his face, and he said he did.’

  Beth sat bolt up in her chair. Her heart was thumping.

  ‘I think we need to know what kind of person this Yash is,’ Harry said.

  ‘I know what kind of person he is! He’s a nasty piece of work. Harry, how could you! I’m scared enough as it is.’

  ‘Sweetheart…’

  Beth stood up. ‘Until this thing I have with Yash is resolved—which is none of your business—I want us to not have anything to do with one another. It’s too risky. I don’t think I could cope if anything happened to you—or even to your uncle.’

  ‘So you don’t want to know what James said?’ Harry asked calmly, picking up his tea and taking a sip.

  Scowling, Beth sat down. ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘I told James the truth on my part: A Jelvia came into one of my pubs and killed a man. The media described him really well because of his spider tat, and as soon as I mentioned that, James supplied his name. You’ve nothing to worry about; I never mentioned you—or Yash—at all.’

  Beth cradled her tea between her hands. She felt shaky.

  Harry stood up and found a packet of digestive biscuits. ‘Have you eaten today?’ he asked, putting them in front of her.

  She glared at him.

  ‘We can’t have you collapsing in a heap again, can we?’ he said in an over-the-top patronising voice.

  Beth smiled despite herself.

  Harry pulled the biscuits back towards him and began to open them. Taking one out, he held it beneath Beth’s nose. She snatched it away from him and took a bite.

  Smiling, he said, ‘First, I want to tell you what James told me about Leigh’s death. It does sound accidental, anyway. As you know, Leigh was a scientist. Five years ago, a group of scientists and politicians joined to meet with Jelvias and have a friendly, let’s-get-to-know-you discussion. But James didn’t trust them—the scientists and politicians, I mean. James said he warned Calder, who was his Jelvian friend at the time, but Calder wouldn’t listen. The government had offered the Jelvias the title of Human. It would give them the same rights as us, basically. Anyway, Leigh offered to be a mole using her scientific background to get her onto the programme.’

  As he paused to take a biscuit, Beth said, ‘And that’s when the helicopter was shot down and Yash got his injuries?’

  ‘That’s right. Yash’s brother Scasone and the other Jelvia named Aldarn—the one who’s gone mad—were captured and experimented on.’ Both paused to take a sip of tea. Harry dunked his biscuit. ‘James said it was down to Leigh that the Jelvias were rescued months later, but it was carnage. The Jelvias killed a lot of people that day. And I do remember the news bulletins about it all now.’

  ‘Does James know who killed Leigh? Was it Calder?’

  ‘I did ask, but apparently, she’d been locked in one of the chambers they were using to detain Jelvias, but the air got cut off. She suffocated.’

  Beth closed her eyes at the awfulness of it. ‘I’m sorry, Harry. I bet it was horrible hearing that.’

  ‘It’s okay. James doesn’t know if her death was an accident or not. Anyway, every single person who was involved in that has since been killed. The only person left is James.’

  ‘But he wasn’t involved, was he?’

  ‘He put Leigh there.’

  Beth picked up her tea and put it down again. ‘This only proves that you can’t be seen with me! If Yash knows you’re related to James… Oh my God, Harry, get out of here immediately!’ Scraping back her chair, she stood up. ‘Go now.’

  ‘I haven’t finished my story.’

  Beth glared at him. When she saw he wasn’t going to move, she sat back down.

  Harry smiled at her. ‘The Jelvias are only interested in those immediately involved with the whole incident. James doesn’t even think he’s in danger, although he has taken steps to remove himself from public life. Look, my point in all this is that Yash has bigger fish to fry than you and Lara.’

  She gave a bitter smile. ‘You’re probably right. I’ve not heard a thing from him, and he promised me he’d find Lara if I—’ She stopped quickly, and to hide her confusion she picked up her tea and began to drink.

  ‘If what, Beth?’

  Beth bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Harry, not yet.’

  ‘I’m thinking the worst here, Beth.’ As she stared at him, unable to find words, he said, ‘He raped you, didn’t he?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that,’ she said quickly. She looked into his eyes. His eyes, the colour of chocolate, bright and earnest. He’d never hurt her, never ask for more than she wanted to give.

  She stood up, her actions not triggered by thought, and leaned across the table. Grasping Harry by the front of his shirt, she pulled him forward and kissed him.

  She knew what she wanted; she wanted to feel clean again. She wanted to wipe away the imprint of Yash’s hands on her body; wanted to wipe away the memory of him taking her to that place where she never desired to go again. Other people might enjoy subspace, but not her. It wasn’t for her. And the only way she could erase that night with Yash was making a new, pleasant memory.

  A better memory with someone she loved.

  Harry’s mouth opened to hers immediately, kissing her back at the same furious pace she’d started. He pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. Still sitting on his lap, they parted lips, and noses touching, they stared at one another.

  Beth’s eyes widened in recognition.

  She loved him. She loved Harry Everson-Watts.

  She stared stupidly at him as the awareness of it rendered her speechless. Harry smiled back as if letting her know that he knew she loved him all along.

  ‘Harry…’ she began.

  Harry stood up with her in his arms and sat her on the edge of the table. Then she watched hungrily as he moved about the table, clearing it of their tea and biscuits. Finally, he closed the kitchen door and turned the key in the lock.

  Facing her, he said, ‘Don’t start something you can’t finish.’

  Smiling, she began unbuttoning her blouse. Harry watched as if hungry, his eyes watching a
ll of her movements. She pulled off her blouse and tossed it to the floor. Her hands went to her jeans, and she jumped off the table to ease out of them, kicking them across the kitchen floor.

  Harry lurched forward and cradled her face in his hands. He kissed her and then gently lifted her up until she was back sitting on the table. He kissed her again, pushing her backwards until she was lying down. His mouth moved from her lips down to her neck, her shoulder, until it lingered on each swell of her breast beneath her bra.

  Beth raised her knees until her bare feet were flat on the table. Harry was between her legs, his upper body resting on hers as he kissed her flesh. Slowly, he rose and began unbuttoning his shirt. A button pinged off, but he was oblivious. Throwing the shirt to one side, he unzipped his trousers and, kicking off his shoes, he pulled off his trousers. Then he was back, kissing her mouth fervently as his hands cradled her head.

  Beth clutched Harry’s shoulders, bringing him closer against her body. She arched against him, not wanting any space between them. His body was softer than Yash’s. Yash was all hard muscle, unyielding and unforgiving. His black eyes held no emotion, unlike the furious passion that burned in Harry’s.

  Harry’s mouth moved down to the swell of her breast. He pulled down the lace of her bra and exposed a nipple. Making a noise of longing, his lips circled the pink bud and suckled hard.

  Beth’s fingers found their way into Harry’s hair, and she gripped it as his mouth hardened around her breast.

  He left her breast, muttering, ‘Oh God, Beth, I love you so much,’ and pressed his mouth against hers, as his hand replaced his lips on her breast. He squeezed and fondled her as Beth moaned her need. She couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted him in her, his weight on top of her. She wanted the memories of Yash to go—the memory of her enjoying Yash’s demands to go.

  She only wanted the memories of Harry making love to her.

  She pulled at Harry’s shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips. She felt his hard erection pressing against her. She tugged Harry’s hair and forced him to kiss her. As they parted, their gazes caught momentarily before she closed her eyes against the incredible longing building up inside her.

  ‘Fuck me, Harry,’ she said. ‘I need… Oh, God.’ Beth wanted to feel him inside her, deep inside her. She couldn’t wait any more.

  Then he was there. Inside her. Thrusting and grunting as Beth moaned and hissed. He grasped her hips, lifting her, and drove inside her with an urgency that matched Beth’s longing.

  She came as Harry spilled into her. Then, he lowered himself onto her, resting his body against hers, their lips barely an inch apart.

  ‘How did I let you walk away from me five years ago? Never again, Beth,’ he said. He rose, pushing an arm beneath her head and another under her legs, and lifting her up off the table. Her hands went around his neck as he cuddled her. ‘We’re in this together,’ he continued, ‘whether you want us to be or not. We’re together.’

  Beth didn’t have the will or the need to reply.

  But she knew the difference between him and Yash.

  Harry loved her.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Beth arrived home just before midnight on Monday from working at the pub. There had been no word on Lara over the weekend, and Harry had surprised her with an appointment to see a private detective on Wednesday, her one day off from the pub, which he insisted on paying for. It was something Beth hadn’t wanted to refuse, but she did, knowing Yash would hear about it.

  After Beth had acknowledged her feelings for Harry, it was as if her subconscious wanted to warn her that her happiness couldn’t last, because instead of feeling euphoria, she felt panicked. She tried to push herself out of it, especially as it affected Harry, who thought she was worrying about Yash—and she was. Although worrying was the wrong word; she was terrified of her final repayment. Yash was going to be more brutal and she would have to keep all that he did to her a secret from Harry—but really, she was more frightened that Yash would hurt Harry.

  That was her biggest fear—that Harry was going to be taken from her.

  She felt trapped in a spider’s web, and that spider was Yash. She hated him with all her being. She wished she’d never met him—never made a deal with him.

  As soon as she arrived home, she knew something was wrong. Her dad’s shoes were on the porch, telling her he hadn’t gone to work. As she stepped over them to enter the lounge, she saw that he was slumped in his chair, drunk.

  Immediately, Beth thought of her mum and ran upstairs to check. Peeking inside the gloomy bedroom, she saw that her mum was fast asleep.

  Back downstairs, Beth stood on the threshold of the lounge and watched her dad. Alcohol fumes poured off him. After last week, she honestly thought she’d got through to him but obviously her words, her pleas, counted for nothing. Even Sarah, the smiling counsellor from AA, hadn’t been able to stop his addiction.

  Beth stared at him as it dawned on her that this was her life. This was as good as it would get. She felt her heart rate escalate. Her panic attacks, although she’d never had a full one since that Sunday, were now a frequent mini-occurrence.

  Wanting to contain it but not knowing how, Beth grabbed a cushion—her mum’s pink one with the silver threads running through it—and flung it at Steven. He grunted as the cushion hit him, but didn’t wake. She stormed across to the kitchen to grab a tea towel, and holding a corner, she whacked him with it. It took three strikes before he woke up with a yelp, waving his arms to fend the tea towel off.

  Beth stopped her onslaught, breathing heavily, and glowered at him.

  Steven looked groggily at her. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  ‘You’re drunk!’

  ‘I’m not.’ He had the gall to look indignant. He pushed himself up off the chair, staggered, and fell back. ‘I’m not,’ he repeated.

  ‘Pissed!’

  He folded his arms in defence, looking like a child instead of her father. He scowled as if he’d been caught with his hands in the sweetie jar. It enraged Beth. She flung the tea towel at him and watched it land over his head. He pulled it off, glowering at her.

  ‘Stop it,’ he said. ‘What have I done wrong now? All I’m doing is sitting here minding my own business!’

  ‘You’re drunk!’ she screeched at him. She stopped and closed her eyes, reminding herself how thin the walls were, and she didn’t want to wake Alison. Her heart was thudding and the tightness in her chest pushed down on her lungs. She pulled in a breath, still glaring at her dad, and attempted to regain control of her body—her anger, though, was past containing.

  Steven’s arm swept the room. ‘Where’s the drink then, eh? Miss Little Self-righteous.’

  ‘If you can manage to stand this time, I can take you straight to it! You think you hide it, don’t you? Well, I’ve news for you, you don’t!’

  Beth turned from him and marched through the kitchen towards the back door to their yard. She was incensed; it was as if another entity had got inside of her.

  She pulled open the door and stepped out as Steven followed at a slower pace. The outside light flared on. They stored some of their old possessions in the shed, things that wouldn’t fit in their new smaller house. She pulled a dresser from the wall, its polythene casing ripping beneath her urgent hands. Several empty bottles that had been tucked behind it fell out.

  Leaving them, and ignoring her dad’s pretend surprise at seeing them, she turned her attention to the lawnmower—not needed anymore since there was no lawn to mow—and lifted out the grass box. Inside were three empty bottles of whisky.

  ‘They’re old—been there years,’ he said.

  Beth snorted. She moved towards their unused freezer. Inside were more empties, and behind it, she found what she was looking for: a half-empty bottle of rum.

  ‘This is what you’ve been binging on today.’ She held it up in front of his face. ‘Tomorrow it’ll be a bottle of whisky or vodka, or maybe gin! You’re not fussy what you drin
k, are you, Dad?’ She thrust it at him, and he was forced to take it before it fell.

  ‘It’s an old bottle,’ he said weakly, all his bravado deflating.

  Her lips felt like rubber as she sucked in a raspy breath. But the anger in her was still not spent. ‘It’s not old! And this is just the yard, Dad,’ she said. She pointed to the lean-to shed. ‘I daren’t go in there.’ She looked down at the rabbit hutch. It had belonged to Lara. The rabbit had died a month before they lost their beautiful home, and Lara had been inconsolable. Steven had insisted they keep the hutch and it came with them from hostel to temporary accommodation to the house they had now.

  Beth bent and opened the wooden door, tucking her hand inside, she brought out an empty can of lager. She delved in again and brought out another and another, followed by an empty bottle of vodka and another of champagne.

  She held up the champagne. It had been a ‘congratulations’ gift to Lara, from Steven, last year for receiving good results in her final exams at school. But Lara had taken one sip, pulled a face, and never touched it again. Its sudden appearance stunned Beth. She looked from the bottle to her dad, unable to speak. A tear escaped from one of his eyes.

  Beth drew back her arm, then heaved the bottle towards the wall where it smashed into a million pieces. The noise ricocheted around the yard. Then Beth fell to her knees and began to cry, great heaving sobs.

  Big hands rested on her shoulder, and then her dad was kneeling behind her, his head against hers, crying huge, choking tears alongside her. He rocked her as he cried, saying, ‘Sorry, sorry,’ over and over.

  Finally, he helped her up, and they moved back into the lounge with their arms around each other. They sat on the settee together.

  ‘I need you, Dad. I can’t do this alone,’ she said softly. She felt weak, terribly weak, but thankfully, her panic attack was passing.

  ‘Oh, Beth. Beth, my love. I’m sorry. I’ve let you down.’ He pulled away from her and covered his face with his hands. His body began to quake with silent sobs again, but somehow he composed himself. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. ‘I’m a useless father.’