“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Yeah, they do.”
His wife looking beseechingly at him. “It does sound like bliss, Malcolm. Really it does.”
He put his head in his hands. “You’re right,” he said with despairing groan. “It’s beginning to look like the only thing left for us to do.”
Outside, I stopped to text Jo. U goin awA 4 t wknd wi Z?
Once I was sure she was safely gone, I went up to the Sattertwaites’ to get my car ready for Barford on Sunday. I’d take it on my own. I couldn’t afford to lose a whole weekend’s points. Not when it was nowt special at Barford this Sunday, so probably only about sixteen local cars would turn up. Great points territory for me.
Pete wandered in. “I thought you’d cancelled?”
I shook my head. “I just pretended to, to give Jo a weekend off. I can’t afford to when Devlin and Horrocks are turning up trying to look innocent at Thursday night Skeggies!”
He grinned. He knew what that was short hand code for. “Do you need me to come?” He offered.
I glanced at him. “I can go on my own, you don’t have to feel obliged.”
He looked across at the wide open door where the sun was streaming in. “Lovely weekend for Barford, out there on the moors. Maybe I’ll bring my own car along. Do my duty by them on the Gold roof tour. We can take the Beast.”
“The Beast’s a bit of a nightmare on that single track road,” I cavilled.
“Yeah, but trailers are hardly any better,” he pointed out. “Single track is single track, however big or small you are…”
“Ok, the Beast it is,” I agreed. I looked across at his tarmac car. “Do you have anything to do on it?”
He shook his head.
“Neither do I,” I agreed. I looked longingly across at the square of sunshine. “What should we do with this lovely afternoon?”
We wandered out into the yard and could see Sue out exercising a horse in the paddock. Doing complicated ballet manoeuvres, with the horse moving sideways across the space, legs crossing like the cygnets in Swan Lake.
“Look, it’s Baby!” He nudged me.
“How does she do that?” I said fascinated. We began to walk nearer to watch. “What signals is she using to get Horse to do that?”
We leant on the fence, chins resting on our arms along the rough wooden top. I stared and stared at Horse, willing her to look round at me. Finally she began to fidget and swing her head, trying to get it round in my direction. She jigged a bit and Sue looked impatiently around. After a moment Sue turned Horse towards us and walked her over. Horse swung her head up and down at me and huffed. I smiled and nodded my head and huffed back.
“What do you want?” Sue asked unsmilingly. “You’re upsetting Baby.”
Pete glanced at her. “Just watching and wondering how you two do that.”
“Well I’d be obliged if you didn’t,” Sue said sharply. “I’m trying to get her to concentrate.”
Horse’s ears flickered back at Sue and gave a bit of shake and a stamp of a foot.
“Ok,” Pete said calmly. “Come on Eve. Let’s go for a walk on the moors.” He took my arm and turned me away. “Maybe we could go for a swim in the reservoir?”
Once we were out of earshot he said, “She was in a bit of strop wasn’t she?”
I pulled a face. “She’s like that all the time now with me. I can’t work out what I’ve done wrong. She’s snip, snip, snip at me. And yanking at things as she speaks. I don’t think it was me upsetting Horse, I think it was her.”
Pete looked frowningly at me for a moment, then shrugged in the way that men do when they’re dismissing the behaviour of a woman with the thought Women! PMT, Menopausal, Mental, not worth trying to even try to puzzle it out. “I was serious about that walk…” he said instead.
We wandered slowly in the exotic sunshine. Out the back of their property, through a little gate over the moors. It was too early for the heather. Too early for the whinberries. But a warm breeze like a hairdryer blew through our hair and the air was scented with late gorse – Malibu and pineapple – Daisy’s tipple of choice. Pete laughed when I said this, but I made him bend and sniff the yellow flowers. “And a hint of mango,” I added.
He frowned. “You’re right,” he admitted at last.
Although we wandered very slowly indeed, by an hour or so we were deep on the moors. I threw myself down into the deep turf and looked up at the blue sky with the almost complete absence of clouds. “This is heaven,” I groaned.
He sat down beside me, his back against a rock.
“Bliss,” I added.
He smiled.
I patted the patch of turf beside me. “Lie down beside me Pete and look up at the sky!”
He lay on his stomach beside me, up on one elbow looking at me instead of the sky as urged. He smiled at me. “You mean you’re willing to appreciate something other than metal?” He teased.
“The moors have always been my second home,” I protested. And when Tyler died, they’d saved my life. I’d run for miles over them every day. First off by head torch, then as the days grew longer, by the pink and purple glow of sunset. I’d got super fit. I hadn’t run for ages now. I didn’t have time during the Stocks season.
“I didn’t know that,” he said. He lay down and looked up at the sky too. “I’ve split up with Siân,” he said suddenly.
I looked sharply sideways at him. “Was it ok?”
“Yeah. She said she’d been thinking of doing it herself. Time for us to pack it in. I guess we were both just marking time…”
“Ok,” I said. I wasn’t going to ask any more. Sounded like Siân had been just using him to fill in the space after Kes and to get her through her bereavement, just like Quinn had been using Daisy. Luckily Pete too had been just using her to fill in the space after me, otherwise it might have been a right mess.
I closed my eyes and let the warm sun caress my face. The heat sensual all over my body. I opened my eyes to see Pete lying watching me again. His eyes sensual on my own. I took a deep breath. I knew what was going to happen next and I knew I should stop it, get up, walk away, but I was deep in the lassitude of a sunny afternoon, with the sound of the bumble bees droning soporifically, and the scent of mango and coconut weaving in and out of my consciousness. And I so, so much wanted it.
He ran his fingers lightly down the inside of my arms, hesitating momentarily when he reached the cigarette burn scar, then clearly decided not to ask anything. I closed my eyes and let him touch me, luxuriating in the quivering sensations that ran through me, like all my nerve endings had lives of their own. He hesitated again, then brushed his hand over my breasts through my blouse. A test to see if I was going to push him off, I guess. I wasn’t wearing a bra. I didn’t bother these days when it hot and I wasn’t going anywhere. They felt super sensitive. I didn’t push him off. He slowly, hesitantly, undid the buttons on my blouse. The sun touched my skin directly. Then his hands. Then his lips. I arched up to him welcomingly. Then I grabbed his head, wound my fingers in his short hair and pulled his lips down on mine.
Twenty minutes later and we were still unable to withdraw from each other. We were tightly entwined, still dressed on our lower halves but skin to skin at the top, almost wild with it.
“Is this a good idea?” He gasped at last.
“No, not at all,” I murmured.
He groaned and tried to roll away. I grabbed him back. “But I don’t care,” I said, kissing his eyelids and biting at his earlobe. Then I bit his shoulder, hard. He held my upper arms, his fingers digging in. Then he pinned me down with his full weight, and we panted and kissed and desperately clung.
“Go on,” I urged. “Just do it!”
Suddenly he started to undo my jeans. I took over and got them off for him, and what was underneath. He didn’t have anything on under his own. Too hot, he said.
He lay our shirts underneath us to protect us from the worst of the prickly heather, and then we lay back down
and then, with his eyes intensely looking into my own, he entered me suddenly, sharply, with one thrust. I yelled out, but not with pain, and grabbed him to force him in even harder. Afterwards he put his hand down there and I was so ready that within seconds he’d brought me to the strongest most exquisite orgasm that I could remember, then he kissed me urgently and came back inside me, each movement seeming like a continuing aching fulfilment.
“God, you’re virile!” I said jokingly as we lay panting, slightly apart. I stroked his chest and ran my fingers lightly up and down his arm. Goosebumps suddenly rippled in the wake of my touch. I laughed. I could always get that to happen afterwards on Pete, he’d get so sensitive. I felt fantastic.
He closed his eyes, almost defensively I thought. “Just two and a half years pent up I guess…”
Now what? I thought. And then I remembered that I hadn’t got around to organising that implant. Damn. Another morning after pill, I guess. And anyway, I still didn’t fancy having hormones again, that’s why I’d been putting it off. I liked my highs and lows. Especially the highs. I felt more alive. Maybe a coil then? It’s just that I’d heard they could give you heavier periods. Still, I could try it.
“Now what?” He asked me, his eyes opening and meeting mine. And I knew he didn’t mean about contraception.
Scared of someone coming along, I got dressed. He got his jeans back on. We lay there a while, saying nothing. Then he got the rest of his clothes on and we walked really slowly back, hand in hand. I put my head on his shoulder. “Pete?” I said cautiously.
He stopped and turned me to face him. He looked at me. “I know, Eve. You don’t have to say it. This doesn’t mean we’re back together – it just means-”
“That we both just really needed that…” I finished off for him.
He lowered his eyes and I thought that was just the best ever. I could do that again and again. But it wouldn’t be fair. I didn’t love him, not in the way that meant I’d want to move in with him and set up house with him, and stop looking for anyone else.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said at last.
“No, nor did I,” I admitted. “I’ve been trying really hard to stop that happening for ages now.”
He glanced sharply at me. “Have you?”
I nodded. Then I grinned at him. “You’re really good at sex you know. I’ve been really missing it.”
He gave a slight laugh. Part surprised. Part selfconscious. He looked away.
“And I don’t see why it shouldn’t continue to happen every now and again, just while we both look for the permanent someone that we both need, you more urgently than I do…”
He scuffed at the peat with his foot. “Why do you say that? About me needing someone permanent more urgently than you?”
“You’re older,” I said bluntly. “You’re the age to settle down. I won’t be ready to make a final decision for ages yet.” Not now that Tyler was dead. Now I’d be keeping my options open for a long, long time. They’d have to be someone really special to match up to him. “And I don’t think we should let on to your family,” I added. “It would only confuse them.”
“Mum asked me only the other week if we were back together,” Pete admitted. “And I really couldn’t tell if she wanted the answer to be ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”
I reached up and put my arms around his neck. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, Pete,” I said sympathetically, searching his face with my eyes. Finally, reluctantly, his eyes met mine. “But I’m not ready. You need to find someone else.”
His arms came around my waist, his eyes flickering with unhappiness. I hated to see it. But I couldn’t give him any false hope. It wouldn’t be fair. “But I’m serious, Pete. If you want to have sex with me for a while, just to tide us over, I really don’t mind.” I hung back on him, smiling naughtily up at him, till his eyes suddenly reflected my smile, and then I pulled his head down for a snog. Ten minutes later I figured the answer to that brazenly improper suggestion of mine, might just be going to be a ‘yes’. Not at all fair really, not at all right, and just what I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to do. But I just really, really, needed it.
Barford was clearly chuffed to see both the Gold and Silver turning up together. It was a lovely day and fun was had by all. And little kids were brought to see our cars. One charming little boy was attempting to collect the signatures of every Champion.
“I feel like a celebrity!” I joked, as we signed his programme. The child’s Dad smiled gratefully at us. I let the kid sit in the cab of my car and Pete sat him on the bonnet of his, and they took lots of photos.
On the way home, Pete and I laughed about it. Then we parked up and made love in the back of the Beast. Made love is the wrong word of course. For me at least. But I couldn’t think of the right word to dignify it. It was more than just a shag.
“Really virile,” I complimented in a teasingly husky voice in his ear. “Is this number four in twenty four hours?” With Jo and Zanna away, we’d taken the opportunity to spend all last night together in my empty flat.
He gave me a playful slap and wouldn’t admit to anything.
“We can’t carry on like this,” I warned. “Or we’ll get nothing else done…”
He smiled sideways at me as he got back into the driver’s seat. I leant over and nuzzled his ear and nibbled at the lobe. For some reason I just liked the feel of it between my teeth. He swatted me away. “Ow! When did you start biting? Was this something you learnt off Tyler?”
I didn’t remember doing it with Tyler. But yes, now he mentioned it, I remembered Tyler did sometimes just suddenly sink his teeth into my arm or my shoulder. Not too hard. Said he couldn’t help it. And now I was understanding why. It just felt really good. Really necessary. Really visceral.
I backed off, laughed and looked out of the window without answering. I wasn’t a seventeen year old now. Pete could have me on my own terms, or go whistle.
When Zanna and Jo came in that evening I glanced at Zanna. She shrugged as though to say she wasn’t sure where they were up to. But there was a palpably calmer atmosphere between them. So they’d obviously got somewhere. I wondered slightly guiltily if Zanna could tell that I’d recently been successfully shagged.
At work the next day, Jo got out her cigarettes defiantly and lit up. Then she leant back on the bench and looked sideways at me.
“Zanna told me you’d explained a few things to her…”
I kept silent. Was Jo angry with me?
Jo let out a stream of smoke in a long breath. “At least she listened to you,” she said. “Because she didn’t take any notice of me when I tried to tell her when we first met… The message finally seems to have got through.” She sucked in a deep breath and held it there before another long exhale. “But where we go from here I don’t know.” She shrugged, just like Zanna had.
“Do you love her?” I asked tentatively.
She shrugged again.
“Do you want to be with her then?”
“I don’t want to lose her friendship. I just want my own room, that’s all!” She flicked some ash onto the ground. “In the old days people used to think it was laudable to be celibate. Now people just seem to think there’s something wrong with you!” She finished up bitterly. I was just glad then that she didn’t turn to me and say she took comfort in my own long stint of celibacy. Because that particular desert had just been thoroughly rained on.
Sahmir arrived at the meeting with Simon with all the requisite objects. Once Simon realised what Sahmir’s regular employment was, he relaxed straight into tech speak, and they talked about the various surveillance devices in the detail I might talk to Rob about an engine. Simon embedded the GPS locator into Sahmir’s trendy trainer and went over the watch, the pen and the button hole camera. They were assuming that Sahmir wasn’t in any danger of getting stripped naked like me. Ta very much.
Then Nick arrived to talk strategy. I could see that Sahmir was beginning to realise
the enormity of what he had taken on.
“We need to give you a pseudonym to use – what name do you want?”
Sahmir frowned. “What if I turn out to know some of them? Won’t they wonder why I’m not using my own name?”
“It’s common for men in these sort of gangs to use a nickname or pseudonym as cover,” Nick explained. “What’s your middle name?”
“Ishaq.”
“Use that. Then any recording that ends up broadcast can’t identify you, but you can excuse your use of a different name to anyone who turns out to know your family…”
“Under what circumstances should I use the alarm?” He asked. “What if some girls are about to be hurt?”
Nick frowned. “The perennial journalist’s dilemma,” he agreed. “Do I blow my cover? Do I not blow my cover but risk having to witness something unsavoury or downright criminal? If I stop the criminal thing happening then I can’t use it as evidence against the perpetrators, because the criminal event didn’t take place and I can’t prove it was about to. But will I be accessory to a crime? Do I just stand back and observe, or do I step in to intervene? You’ll have to come to your own conclusions about that. Remember you are there to get proof that little girls are getting raped and abused. But don’t hesitate to press the button if you are in immediate physical danger yourself. No-one’s asking you to get injured doing this.”
Sahmir was looking really uneasy, poor thing. I knew how he felt.
“And keep that blog,” Simon urged. “And if you want to alleviate the effects on the Muslim community when all this blows sky-high, then make sure you sound suitably shocked and condemnatory about everything. Start sentences with statements such as, ‘as a devout Muslim man myself’, or discuss your opinions about religion and about what the Koran would have to say about this. You have to set out to show yourself as being an ordinary good Muslim citizen who is horrified by what some of these men from a similar background are getting up to. That way the viewer can set it all into perspective…”
Purgatory Is a Place Too Page 17