Salt of Their Blood

by Gerald Wixey

  Here we are then.

  By the time I’d got the car into top gear, Kathy had both hands on my thigh. She twisted in her seat and I felt her eyes boring into me. As my beautiful lover stroked my leg, I realised.

  Oh Kathy, you’re as confused as me.

  I swept up Gore Hill towards our usual parking spot. We came up to this part of the Ridgeway occasionally. Kathy would take a long lunch break and we’d stare across the Thames Valley. I parked and sighed again. A gloomy Sunday morning. The hissing tower of steam rising from the power station cooling towers, blended seamlessly with dark, dark clouds. The clouds were straight out of a picture by Renoir, the light more dismal November than late July; ominous and depressing.

  On a quiet weekday, we would clamber onto the back seat. We both looked along the twisting length of the Ridgeway for walkers, they were everywhere.

  ‘Too many people?’

  ‘Bad luck.’ Kathy held my face and stared deep into my eyes. ‘Stuart, don’t move, we can’t – stay still.’

  I looked back at her unblinking gaze, no longer disconcerted like that first time. Her hands held my cheekbones lightly now. I loved the line of light freckles that crossed the bridge of her nose. Her small, even, white teeth exposed as she smiled up at me.

  ‘Stu – lover.’ Still smiling, ‘Do you love me?’

  I hoped it would come to this – here at last – it had smashed its way into my convoluted equation… At last.

  ‘Yes – yes – I love you.’

  She began to nod her head, slowly ‘Stu, I love you. Stuart – tell me – tell me again.’

  ‘I love you Kathy – so much.’

  ‘Look at me!’ a solitary tear running down her face, ‘I love you, Stu – oh God. I love your intensity, you excite me, I even love your temper.’ She held my face and looked at me again, ‘What do you see? Me – what do you see? Her eyes burned into mine, ‘Desperation? Lust? Love? Tell me.’

  Kathy sounded desperate and looked desperately gorgeous, pleading for me to say the right thing, not a strong suit of mine. ‘I see excitement, for me I hope, passion and love.’

  She smiled and nodded. ‘What are we going to do? I tried to end it, intended to finish it, couldn’t do it. I was going to but...’ Kathy’s breathing slowed a touch as she whispered, ‘Us - what are we going to do? About us?’

  The question I never pondered; I had been seeing her for months, twice a week sometimes. Long, heated, bonecrunching,

  adoring afternoons. I reverted to type and said the wrong thing. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘No!’ Not me.’ Kathy became sharp and urgent. ‘This is important. What do you want to do about me - us?’ I must have looked blank. Kathy sighed, ‘Kenny’s going to do something stupid.’ Kathy’s tears rolled down her cheeks, ‘I’ve got nowhere to go. You know what my mum’s like? I have no

  one.’

  I spoke, the words came so naturally, so easy that I wondered why I’d never said it weeks ago. ‘I want to be with you - anywhere, with you all the time.’

  I got it right this time; her arms came around my neck, her

  wet, tear-streaked cheek crushed against mine. ‘I’ve got to get out - leave. I want to be with you. Please!’

  Kathy slipped her hand through mine and held it tight. We stayed like that, quiet, until she said. ‘We have a couple of days together soon. Time to make plans. Lets be careful, no mistakes, we’ll soon be together.’

  ***

  A calm Monday afternoon. The old boys were in their usual corner playing dominos and stridently at odds over the scores.

  ‘Hello Stu.’

  Shirley surprised me. She always opened up and let Bernice in, woke me, fussed around, shared a pot of coffee with me and left around eleven. She didn’t come back until the evening; apart from wet lunchtimes when we were full of builders. I couldn’t remember her having one at this time for a couple of years. I watched her climb up onto the stool, never stylish when both age and a tight skirt conspire against you.

  ‘This is a pleasant surprise – is everything okay?’

  Shirley nodded, comfortable at last, she searched through her handbag as Bert came over from the crib table and placed three empty glasses down on the bar.

  ‘Same again.’ He turned to Shirley, ‘Hello Shirley. Get the lady one – you are drinking?’

  She nodded. ‘Thanks, Bert.’

  I studied her in the mirror behind the line of optics, cutting the lemon and inspecting Shirley’s imposing figure, railing against age, hair natural and still blonde.

  ‘Careful.’ Bert watched me watching Shirley. ‘You’ll chop your bloody finger off.’ Shirley spotted me giving her the eye. Usually it would be a smile and a wave, our little game. Not today; serious and severe, her eyes went back to her handbag.

  ‘Three plus a large one, ninety seven pence.’

  Bert grumbled away, ‘Outrageous price.’ Bert whinged and looked down Shirley’s blouse at the same time, I went to the till, a sly look, Shirley had a disciplined refusal to look back at me.

  ‘Give me twenty Embassy.’ She spoke as if practised containment was required. ‘I haven’t had one all day – I’m gasping.’

  I brought my stool over and sat opposite, watching her use a long manicured, bright red nail to slice open cellophane. The silver paper hooked out and she tugged the red tag and put the packet up to her bright red lips. Placed the exposed cigarette tip between them and pulled the packet away. ‘Got a light, master?’

  I smiled, ready with a match and she cupped my hand, looking into my eyes all the time. I put the box of matches on top of her cigarettes and watched her drag deeply, first of the day. My old man always said, first one’s the best one, drag it all the way down to the boots.

  ‘Why does Arthur always call you master?’ Shirley’s mood had lifted somewhat, I put that down to a body getting its daily dose of alcohol and nicotine. The smoke belched out of her mouth and nose as she spoke.

  ‘I don’t know – he always has, apart from that time I knocked him off his bike. He called me a little turd then.’

  She laughed, comfortable and easy again, I thought. We had the bar to ourselves, my right elbow on it, she leant towards me on her left and we inspected each other. Our usual teasing late night routine – she said it more than once, a fit young man, now there’s a nice thought for a wet afternoon. But you’re all trouble, tell all your mates and have a big laugh about it, no thanks.

  She sighed, a nice thought. ‘Did you like what you saw in the mirror?’

  ‘Yes I did, you know what I think about you.’

  Her mood switched again, short, sharp. ‘You’re just like your bloody uncle – you would, wouldn’t you?’ A switch was thrown and Shirley became irrationally angry, her eyes squinted across at me and she hissed. ‘Not content with screwing my daughter-in-law, you’d have the old lady too – well, wouldn’t you?’ My head snapped back and started spinning; she spat the words at me. ‘Shook you up have I?’

  I’d never seen her annoyed, really annoyed. Things closed in, the ceiling and walls were compressing me, I needed a desperate lie. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, honestly Shirley, not a clue.’

  She furiously hammered her cigarette out and stared across the bar. I said nothing through my panic. Not a scene, please Shirley, not a slanging match.

  Shirley read my mind, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to shout and scream.’

  ‘There’s nothing to shout about.’

  She pushed her empty glass across the bar.

  ‘I’ll get this.’ The least I could do, but I never looked into the mirror at her this time, never looked at her when I put the glass back in front of her.

  ‘There’s nothing going on, you must believe that.’

  Shirley’s eyes came up to mine, I’d never seen a look on her face so hard, closed and hard. ‘Something’s going on. You’re talking to an expert, someone who’s had thirty years of te
lling lies and keeping secrets. Kenny’s not happy after they find the body of her dead brother and yet she’s always out. Had her hair done twice in the last few weeks, dresses beautifully and looks radiant. And Kenny’s cracking up.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean…’

  ‘I dread to think what he’ll do.’

  I said, ‘Have you said anything to Kathy?’ Her eyes flared and her hand trembled as she lit another cigarette, then Shirley glanced up and slowly shook her head. I shouldn’t have asked. ‘Why did you think I’m involved?’

  This irrational thought nagged away inside me. Ever since I bumped into Kenny in Oxford, I felt that he knew. Of course I never told Kathy and now I wondered what he had told Shirley. Her head dropped and a beaten look crossed her face. ‘Sorry lover.’

  She went for her fags again. ‘I’ve had this irrational thought in my head for a few days. I just took a flier at it, you two have always been cosy – Kenny’s upset and that’s hurt me – I don’t know what came over me. Sorry lover.’

  And so am I.

  ***

  Should I tell Kathy? Shirley’s blazing accusation agonised me as I walked up Parks Road. A bad place to meet anyone, what with the Australians playing the universities. The whole place heaved and breathed with cricket watchers. It was a warm afternoon and women were in print dresses, the younger women in shorter ones. The sky was a fragile blue as we stood in front of High Bridge next to the relaxed movement of the river Cherwell. The slow-moving water carried reflections of fluffy clouds and twisting willow trees.

  A kiss in a very public place – I never cared; Kathy had the same infection it seemed. We walked along the footpath to Marston with our arms around one another for the first time, outside and in public that is. My arm around her waist and a soft summer afternoon – an afternoon made just for us. The swallows’ wings beat softly, but loud enough to be heard as we walked below them, then a noise like a fan as they swooped past us.

  We ended up in the Angel and Greyhound in St Clements, and I told her.

  Kathy’s nose flared and her eyes fluttered down, ‘She was off with me last week – I just thought she’s having a bad day.’

  ‘I just delayed the inevitable, that’s all.’

  She nodded, ‘Tomorrow – two whole days together. Don’t look like that, we have decisions to make, serious things.’

  We’d talked about her course down at Winfrith, two days in sunny Dorset. A chance for her to tell Kenny another lie – and a big one this time. An opportunity for an untruth to manifest a half-day’s course into two nights away and I couldn’t wait. We’d never spent the night together; never had the chance to wake next to one another.

  ***

  My drive down became an unbearable cocktail of expectation and exhilaration; anticipation surged through me, the idea of two night’s together blinkered me to everything, apart from her clear and precise instructions.

  Hotel Rex, they’ll hold the reservation until two, get there before that, I’ll be along about four – don’t be late!

  I signed in and tried to make some small talk with the owner, ‘My wife’s working down here – joining me tonight.’ I knew, he knew, his pinched features were transparent, my restless imagination overdriving as his tight-lipped mouth suggested – someone else’s wife sir?

  Tall and thin with an unyielding, condescending mouth as he said, ‘How will you be paying – cash?’

  Then the patronising look, I thought as much.

  I even refused a couple of hours in the bar. Instead, I walked along the wide promenade, the expansive gently-sloping beach packed with small children, angry teenagers and browbeaten parents. Ugly thunderheads massed over Portland, the humidity more Oxfordshire than Dorset coast. When I got back into the foyer, I noticed a woman in her sixties, heavily made-up, expensively dressed, slim, dragging on a long cigarette contained in a longer, garish holder.

  She looked hard at me. I held her stare and she smiled seductively enough, her right eyebrow went up, I’m on my own. I walked briskly past, up to the room.

  I stared out of the bedroom window; rain rattled the panes and I looked from window to my watch. I shook it every now and again, surely the dammed thing had stopped? Eventually her cream-coloured Morris Minor swept into the tight car park, and then assertively reversed into the remaining space. Kathy was unbothered by the rain, tight business suit, small suitcase, strapless handbag – a tripping, skipping little run through the rain and I met her at the revolving door, her eyes creased and a wide grin.

  Kathy said, ‘Rain – what are we going to do?’ She laughed, we kissed and I took her suitcase and she took my arm. She moved her head a little and whispered as we climbed the stairs, ‘Soon, lover – soon… I love you so much.’

  The owner’s supercilious, pompousness still needled me, but as Kathy’s arms came around my waist, I felt the anxiety drift away, replaced by her emotion, love filtering into my body, like waves running up the beach that I’d just been staring at.

  We went to sleep with our lungs burning like Olympic sprinters running at altitude. Kathy had been busy all day and slept deeply through the thunder that woke me. We stayed in our room for two days, apart from excursions to the dining room with a desire for food that matched our craving for one another. In between bouts of excitement and times spent eating, our conversation went from exhilarated chatter, to periods of mawkish sentiment to longer spells where she cried, her customary optimism disengaged.

  The humidity finally gone, we sat at breakfast and watched exploding clouds evaporating into little pools, leaving remnants and a gusting wind, whipping the water. Kathy sighed, ‘I can’t go back there – I’m not going back to him, I’ve nowhere to go, God, what a bloody mess!’

  I wished she hadn’t used the same words mum used twelve years earlier.

  God what a bloody mess.

  I tried to grapple with this, after the initial shock, the understanding, the consequence; finally the comprehension.

  Well… here we are then.

  Kathy’s forceful personality drove the situation forward. ‘No more – I’m telling him when I get home.’

  A loud aching, hissing inhalation from me, before I said. ‘Is that a good idea? Can’t we just bunk off – get your stuff when he’s at work?’ Wyn’s words were fresh in my mind, Shirley took the wrong decision and it finished them. ‘Can’t we do that?’

  ‘No, I have to do it.’ Shaking her head, ‘I have to tell him.’ Kathy took my hand, ‘You can see that, can’t you? I have to.’

  ‘I’m worried – especially given the way he’s been.’ I didn’t feel safe close to him. Kathy breaking earth-shattering news would tip him over the edge. ‘Please… let’s just move away, you know well enough what happened when Ron was told.’

  Kathy’s grip on my hand tightened. ‘I have to do it, I’m not sneaking around like that.’

  ‘Shirley will never speak to me again.’

  ‘What do you want?’ she snapped at me, ‘Me or your cosy little friendship with my mother-in- law. Soon to be ex mother-in-law?’

  I brought her hand up and kissed the back of it, ‘You know what I want; it’s only ever been you. I just want everybody to be happy.’

  She sighed, ‘It’ll be bad enough telling Kenny, but in a way I’m more worried about mum and dad – they’ll kill me. Mum will, anyway. You must be sure about this, I love you so much, but I’m jumping to a man with no job – please, are you sure?’ I got really prickly whenever anyone mentioned my employment situation, Kathy knew this well enough, she qualified his by saying, ‘You only get paid when you play, what if you get injured?’

  ‘I earn more doing what I do than someone gets for forty hours a week at the car factory, anyway, that isn’t the issue is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ She nodded. ‘I’m just trying to cover everything, don’t get upset, no falling out over it, okay? I’ve already looked in the estate agents, there’s a couple of small furnished flats.
When I get back, don’t worry – we’ll soon be together.’ Decision made, she nodded, ‘Monday – it’ll all be over.’

  ‘I’m worried about you telling Kenny, but Bernice…’

  ‘Oh she hates you, what do you expect.’

  She stared, then we both laughed, but beneath all of the euphoria… a feeling. An undercurrent, this is all too easy.

  ***

  I’d only been home a couple of hours, when Kathy rang me late Friday afternoon. She’d already found a furnished flat in the market place, above Wally’s newsagents; signed up and paid the deposit, we could move in straightaway. You had to hand it to Kathy she was organised and decisive, just one more uncomfortable weekend at home and then tell Kenny after work.

  By Monday I’d moved all of her stuff out, a nervous, clandestine operation. I was forever glancing down the road, avoiding neighbours’ eyes as we rushed in and out. It only took a few minutes, but it felt like I’d just done ten rounds with a gorilla.

  I left with her words echoing around inside my head, ‘I’ll be OK, honestly, I’ll ring you this evening.’

  What an eight months; there had been no gradual blossoming to the affair, no spring-like budding over a long period – it had been an explosion. A detonation of desire, a brutal confluence flanked by love and lust. No superfluous, fleeting notions of denial for me. I loved her from the start.

  She overwhelmed me and I never tried to deny it. I loved her – I loved her sexual intensity – I loved Kathy. After months of clandestine trysts, covert couplings and collusive phone calls it was endgame, and soon everyone would know. Happy and unburdened, unconcerned about the implications, I shut my eyes and calmed. My pulse slowed and I dreamt. So confident, so sure – surely I could do as I pleased? The last lie had been told, the last act about to be played out; I dozed fitfully in my old man’s chair.

  At last, what I wanted from the start