The real ending came the following month when she cancelled her direct debit on their flat rental. She wasn’t living there and she couldn’t really afford to keep paying for it. Yes, this was going to put David under a lot of financial strain but that was his problem. He responded in a flurry of angry texts and emails telling her that he would change the locks if she didn’t pay her share. Fine, she told him. She wasn’t really that bothered and she was disappointed to see that the only time she’d managed to provoke an emotional reaction from him was on the topic of money. It was over. What she needed to do now was to analyse what had gone wrong and what she could learnt from the situation.
She had plenty of time to reflect on her relationship because her life had become dull and remarkably uneventful. Her brother was something of a cliché. She loved him but she wasn’t sure that she understood why he seemed to delight in plain grey suits, accountancy exams and nothing more exciting than a few pints while watching sport in the pub. He was a nice man and calm and pleasant but he lacked spark or any kind of spirit of adventure she liked to think that all the family’s fire and passion and being poured into her.
When she’d been little the whole family had watched a sitcom called The Good Life; a delightful tale of a couple who chose to experiment with a life of self-sufficiency. Their neighbours were the model of tradition and conservatism, Margo and Jerry. Seemingly without any hint of irony or self awareness her own brother had moved to the place where the TV series had been set and established himself as a corporate accountant in exactly the same vein.
Sean and Cathy were kind and consistent but she couldn’t share the details of her relationship with them. She was fairly sure they’d be deeply shocked if they knew some of the things that she got up to but perhaps she was underestimating them. She sometimes wondered if behind the dull and fairly timid-looking facade they were secretly enjoying a wild hedonistic lifestyle. But it seemed unlikely. She was fairly sure that they’d never taken any kind of drugs or experimented sexually in any way. The two of them were well-suited to being middle-aged in suburbia and seemed to have spent their early years waiting to age into their natural personalities.
Despite their suburban dullness she had to admit that her brother’s house made an excellent refuge. She never felt any pressure to explain herself or to leave and every day Cathy told her that she could stay as long as she liked. They were good people but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome and so forced herself to begin the long arduous business of flat hunting. She had offers from various friends at work but there was no point moving from one small room to another. If she was going to rent then it had to be her own place. She was too old for student accommodation or its equivalent.
Summer quickly faded and she spent her autumn evenings trailing around the cheaper parts of London looking at tiny drab studio flats. It was a dull lonely time and felt as if someone switched all the colour off. Had all the melody vanished from the songs that she loved? Had the taste and seasoning drained from her food? It certainly seemed so because on her own and coming to terms with the loss of her lover the days felt grey and cold and empty. The weather didn’t help. The sun seemed to have gone away for good discretely and a cold dark blustery autumn arrived in its place. The first month that she was officially single it always seemed to be dull and grey.
It wasn’t just heartbreak there was more to it than that. There was loneliness and sadness and a sense of failure. She was a positive optimistic person but the mornings that she woke early in her brother’s spare room and lay awake listening to the sounds of his house she struggled to find any hope or cheer.
She was good enough at her job to go through the motions and get things done but her mind wasn’t really in it. Her mind wasn’t really anywhere though. It would be wrong to say that she was thinking about David or their relationship because actually her thoughts kept drifting to her fears about the future. It took a lot of effort to convince herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong that she hadn’t betrayed him or abandoned him in fact what she needed to do was to reassure herself that she had been betrayed and abandoned. He had taken their submission and dominance games into a very selfish place and in the end he’d spent all of his time and energy thinking about himself and she’d become lost in the relationship. She needed to convince herself on an hour by hour basis that she was right to leave. She was better than that. She deserved somebody’s love and attention.
Jen and Jackie were a great support. At the end of each day her best friend at work would come to her desk ask how she was and offer to take her for a drink and a chat. Jackie texted her every few days and every couple of weeks would organise a mini-reunion of old uni friends.
When she wasn’t being cheered by friends she would go to the gym then make her way to Waterloo and take the lonely train to her brother’s. Back in the small but comfortable house in Surbiton she would help Cathy cook and sometimes she would bump into Sean on the train. The two of them would stop for a drink in the local and sip a contemplative glass of wine before they went home. Sean was always calm and understanding and for every hour he sat patiently asking her how she was and making kind and considerate conversation she made a mental note that should one day thank him and reward him.
Life in the small detached house in Surbiton had developed a routine. After dinner she would stay and help Cathy clear up but her brother always went to the living room to read the newspaper or watch TV. It was the traditional division of labour and because he was the only breadwinner he didn’t feel obliged to do any household chores. She wasn’t certain how she felt about the situation except that she was glad that she’d always worked. Working gave one an equal part in any argument or discussion and she was amazed how meek and submissive Cathy was. The irony that always made her smile was that by watching their domestic life she could see more and more clearly how being sexually submissive was nothing like being submissive in real life.
When she’d done as much as she could in the kitchen she would go and join her brother and watch TV for a few hours. It was relaxing but usually mind-numbingly boring. She missed having a joint and talking about kinky scenarios with David. Eventually she would choose to go to bed early; hurrying to wash and brush her teeth in case one of her hosts wanted to use the house’s only bathroom. The worst time of the day came when she slipped into the small bed in the tiny guestroom and lay trying not to allow her mind to drift to the failure of her relationship or what David might be doing. Any options she could think of distressed her; if he was alone and feeling as sad as empty as her then she felt sorry for him. If he was out enjoying himself then she was annoyed that he was not missing her more. Worst of all was the thought that he might be with another woman. She tried as much as possible to find other things to think about but night after night she would lie awake listening to her brother and his wife moving around in the room next store and desperately hoping for a peaceful sleep.
The music of the time didn’t help. As she walked around the streets near her office in nearly every coffee shop, pub and boutique in Camden they were playing either one or other of the year’s two sad songs. The worst was Morrissey singing You Have Killed Me. She’d always been a Smiths fan and she’d always found his lyrics and tone of voice haunting and moving. This tune was a real heartbreaker. It had the quality of all great emotional songs in that when she heard it she was convinced that it had been written for her and her alone. The words, the mood and the references seemed just too precise and fitting not to be about her and David. The other real heart breaker was Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars; a slow epic of a song that seemed to tear her apart whenever she heard it. If I lay here, if I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world? Several times she had to flee from a table or a queue in a shop so that she could march around the back streets near Mornington Crescent dabbing her eyes and breathing away the sudden sadness that had possessed her.
Although she’d been trying not to since she’d left David part of her mind was c
ompulsively analysing their mistakes. Sometimes she thought about what had gone wrong and sometimes she thought about what he had done wrong and often she thought about what she had done wrong. Each brought a different range of feelings. Looking neutrally at what had gone wrong was the most objective. This was the analytical part of her mind examining the relationship like some kind of scientific experiment or computer program. This place yielded the best results and was the calmest and easiest to deal with.
Sometimes she needed a kind of emotional hit though. Sometimes she needed to blame him and when that happened she found it difficult not to start listing all the mistakes he’d made and all the ways that he’d failed her. Finally there was the question of what she’d done wrong. This was the place of self-pity. This was where she went at her lowest moments and thought about her own failings and considered what she could have done to have kept the relationship working.
A good couple of months after they’d split up she came to a startling conclusion. She realised that she had not fallen in love with him but with the idea of having her fantasies fulfilled. There had been far too much of what David wanted to do to her and not enough of who or what David really was. She also realised that he’d probably done the same thing. He’d been attracted to what he could do to her and not who she was. The way he’d reacted after she had spent the weekend with James had been proof of that. He’d only focussed on what they’d done together. He never once asked her how she felt or how the experience had been for her. It was about the actions and not the emotions.
Once she had fully analysed her conclusions she felt much better. Neither of them were to blame. It had just been a beginner’s mistake. If you spent the majority of your life craving certain sexual scenarios it would be very easy to confuse the realisation of the fantasies with the realisation of love. It was better that she had experienced that and learnt from it. Now she knew what to look for and what to be wary of.
She was wiser but still melancholy. It didn’t help that the weather just kept getting worse. Autumn sank into winter and the days were grey and blustery. It seemed to be endlessly dull and cold and although she kept making appointments to visit flats the ones that she could afford were a long way out of town and extraordinarily small and grotty. She kept turning them down, aware perhaps that she was afraid of being on her own and dreading the sensation of moving her suitcases and cardboard boxes into a damp empty space. Weeks turned into months but it was only after a drab empty Christmas at her parent’s house that she found that her thoughts had drifted away from David and some of her optimism and sense of humour returned. Things would be okay. She was young and bright and cheerful and the best of her life was ahead of her.
It turned out she was right and she was about to hear a voice that would change everything.
Chapter Nine
A New Start
It had been just another day in the office. The team were performing well and despite tough times in many parts of the industry the company was growing. She managed to get away at a reasonable time and as it was late February and the weather had begun to improve a little she decided to walk down the High Street to Mornington Crescent. The air was warmer than usual and for the first time that year carried some scents of nature; the smell of freshly cut grass was on the breeze and the setting sun had put an orange glow behind the clouds in the west. She looked out for these things. Most of London had hidden green spaces and if you knew where to look you could always find a tree line, a passing flock of birds or a patch of distant hillside. Around their offices there was a network of canals and towpaths where, in just a few seconds, one could step away from the noise of the city and enjoy a quiet walk. She was just contemplating extending her journey through the flower beds of Regent’s Park when a voice jolted her from her dreamy contemplation.
“Hey! Red Locks.” Her heart leaped. Turning quickly she found James standing in the doorway of a camera shop smiling at her in a way that was so subtle as to be almost apologetic. The gentle and caring expression in his eyes made her wonder if he knew about what had happened to her and David and was feeling sympathetic. She said hello and then they moved out of the busy walkway and stood in front of the window exchanging greetings. Her hand was pushing her hair back off her face and she didn’t know where to put her gaze. Not looking at him seemed rude but whenever she did meet his eyes it felt too intense and intrusive.
He asked her where she was going and, bit by bit, in uncomfortable questions and half replies, the story unfolded that she no longer lived with David in Queen’s Park and she was about to take the underground to Waterloo to catch the train to Surbiton. As he listened to the news his handsome features were crumpled in sympathy but when she’d finished he started to nod.
“Yes I know.” he said kindly.
He knew? How? She was looking at him quizzically when he went on to explain that it was common knowledge within the community. He meant, of course, the BDSM scene in London, and she guessed that he still attended the club where she’d first met him. She must have looked lost and confused because he then gently touched her shoulder with his fingertips and asked how she was doing.
She could have cried. So many people were continually asking her that question but for some reason being asked by him was so much worse. Of course he must have been wondering if he was part of the problem and had perhaps been struck with a big stab of guilt. She couldn’t remember making any kind of intelligible reply and while she was standing holding back her tears he moved his hand in a familiar tilting gesture and suggested a drink. She nodded and they were soon sitting at a table in the nearest pub.
It was weird and yet somehow their conversation quickly became quite normal. They had only taken a few sips when he came straight to the point. He asked her how she felt about her weekend as his slave and told her to be honest about whether it had affected her relationship with David. The moment she started to recall her time in Gloucestershire she felt herself blush. It was very unusual for her. She considered herself incredibly confident but her whole body had changed when she’d put her mind back to the two days of slavery she’d spent with the man on the other side of the table. She told him that the weekend with him had been okay and then, realising that sounded vague and underwhelming, added that it had been really good. After hearing the words ‘really good’ leave her mouth she corrected herself and went back to saying that it was okay. Finally, realising that she couldn’t articulate her feelings about their time together she moved on and tried to explain the whole situation.
Yes the weekend away had changed her relationship with David but she didn’t want him to blame himself. She told him that, with the benefit of hindsight, being loaned to another master had brought to the surface rifts and communication gaps that had already existed between them. He nodded then apologised anyway; fumbling with his words just like she had and spending a long time trying to explain that he had loved their time in Gloucestershire whilst also expressing doubts that perhaps it had been too adventurous and put too much pressure on her relationship. He said that he was extremely sorry that he’d acted selfishly and greedily.
They drank silently while each of them processed what had just been said and tried to come to terms with the strangeness of the situation. To help them move on to simpler and more straightforward topics she asked him what he was doing in the neighbourhood.
He pointed up the High Street towards Camden and told her that he had just dropped some records off with a friend. She immediately saw the opportunity to tease him. “Records?” She asked, “What are those? Are they flat pieces of plastic with ridges on them?”
He grinned and took the joke well. “Yes, I’m afraid I’m a bit of an antique collector.” Remembering the journeys in the big car she couldn’t resist asking him if it was opera that he collected. He shook his head. “No. opera’s just for driving. It keeps me calm. Classical guitar music in the morning and then the rest of the day it’s northern soul or whatever project I’m working on.”
&nb
sp; She asked him if he was still making music videos and he nodded and told her about some of his more recent projects. He described doing a shoot on a train for a rather beautiful R&B artist and she remembered that she’d seen the video on TV.
By then they’d finished their drinks and he insisted on going to buy a second round. While he was at the bar a number of the regulars and local Camden characters went up to talk to him and shake his hand. They all called him ‘Jim’ or ‘Jimmy’ and she quizzed him about it when he returned.
He told her that he’d grown up in the area and was the product of rather neglectful parents. It seemed that he’d spent much of his youth on the streets and had got to know a huge range of characters. ‘Jim’ was his past, whereas now that he was older and trying to be more grown-up he was encouraging people to call him James. He explained the story entertainingly but was full of genuine self-deprecation and modesty. He spoke very matter-of-factly about himself and even when discussing what was obviously an incredibly successful career in the music industry never made it sound like he was proud or felt that he was anything special. As he talked she felt herself become increasingly relaxed. Perhaps it was the wine, but it certainly helped to get him on an interesting topic and then sit back and study him.
Twenty Tones of Red Page 16