‘Pretty good. Life’s good altogether. So heaven knows what upset me like that. I thought I’d got over Gerry.’
‘But Catherine, it must have been quite awful, him dying so traumatically. I don’t suppose you ever really get over such a shock – not entirely, anyway. In fact, I remember you telling me you wouldn’t even want to.’
‘No. You’re right – I did. I suppose it’s a sort of tribute to him, keeping a core of sadness inside. But it does get better. Gradually. And of course it helps being so busy.’
‘Yeah, you’re getting worse than me these days! Christ knows how you fit it all in.’
‘Oh, I’ve worked out a good system. That’s business training for you! And I enjoy all the variety – auctions, boot fairs, market, sewing, even the odd poetry reading …’
‘Catherine?’ Nicky sat studying her fingernails.
‘What?’
‘If I did take the job, would you and Will be able to … you know, share a place or something? I mean, I hate the thought of going off and leaving you in the lurch. And I presume you wouldn’t want to stay here with just Jo and Darren?’
Catherine hesitated. ‘I … I’m sure we can work something out. And it would be great to spend every night with him.’
Not true. Fantastic as the sex was, she still wanted the option of sleeping on her own from time to time, or skipping supper and settling for a hunk of cheese (as she would probably do tonight). There was something important about having a kind of bolt hole, even if it was only one room in a rented house. In any case, Will’s flat was too small for them both and although they’d given it a total face-lift, she didn’t like Tandoori Street, or the ghastly hairdresser’s with its constant smells and musak. Yet what would she do if Nicky went? She certainly couldn’t afford a place of her own. It was bad enough shelling out the rent each week when she spent most of her time at Will’s.
She folded her patchwork and put it back in its box. Her problems could wait – it was Nicky’s that needed solving. ‘Nicky, I’ve got an idea,’ she said, sitting at the desk. ‘Whenever Gerry was faced with a tough business decision, he would ask himself: what’s the worst that could happen? He’d set out all the options in separate columns and take each one to its logical conclusion: if I did this, then what? For example, if you resigned from HHA and then the windsurfing didn’t work out, would they consider taking you back? Or could you find a job with another agency? Or would it simply be the end of your career?’
‘Oh, no, nothing as dramatic as that – though I doubt if HHA would want me back. But I’m bound to get something somewhere, even if it’s only making tea in a third-rate agency.’
‘Well, it helps, don’t you think, just to know what’s at stake? I think we ought to do it for every different factor – your pay, your parents, Darren, even Stewart. What a pity you don’t fancy Stewart. Isn’t it always the way?’
‘Yeah. Sod’s law! Still, it can’t be helped. And I’m feeling better already, doing something positive.’
‘Good. I’ll get some paper and let’s sit here at the desk. That’ll make it more important. And it is important – very.’
Nicky drew up her chair. ‘You really care, don’t you, Catherine?’
She nodded.
‘And you would stay up all night, if need be, wouldn’t you?’
Yes.’
‘You say yes as a matter of course, but you know lots of people wouldn’t. Even so-called friends. Look, whatever happens, we mustn’t lose touch. I’d absolutely hate that. In fact, I want you to promise me something. If I do decide to go, you’ll come and visit me in my little cabin on the beach.’
Catherine doodled an N on the pad, then drew a Biro heart around it. ‘Don’t you worry – as soon as I’ve made my first million, I’ll be out there like a shot. Just you try and stop me!’
Chapter Twenty Four
‘Will, are you in?’ Catherine burst into the living-room, but found it empty. She tried the room next door. Also empty. ‘Will?’ she called again.
‘I’m in the bath.’
‘Oh good,’ she said, opening the bathroom door, ‘I thought you might be late back.’
‘You’re the one that’s late, my love. Where’ve you been?’
‘All over the place.’ She kissed the top of his damp head. ‘But listen, Nicky’s decided – she’s going.’
‘God, how rotten for you, darling. I was rather afraid she’d go, all along.’
She sat on the edge of the bath. ‘Well, actually she’d decided not to go and only changed her mind today. I’ve just been round to the house, and she and Darren are in a hell of a state, I can tell you. You see, someone was sacked from HHA this morning. He hit his partner, believe it or not – his partner at work, that is. Apparently they’ve been working late all week and he finally reached breaking point. He gave her a black eye. There was a tremendous kerfuffle – well, you can imagine, can’t you? But Nicky said it was like a sort of trigger for her. She marched in to Wayne and said, “Okay, that’s it. I’m leaving.” ’ Catherine yanked off her sweater. She was hot from racing upstairs, and the bathroom was like a sauna.
‘Thank Christ I don’t work in an office. It sounds appalling. But I’m very sorry, for you.’ He leaned over and squeezed her hand. You were dreading this, weren’t you?’
‘Mm.’ She bit her lip. ‘But you know, Nicky seemed so certain, all at once. She’s been really weird this last week, but it’s as if she’s on a high now. So I’m pleased for her. At least, I’m trying to be pleased. She’s got enough on her plate with Darren. He’s terribly upset about her going, and also worried they’ll use it as an excuse to give him the chop. Nicky’s hoping he can work with Lynne, but …’
‘Who’s Lynne?’
‘The girl who was hit. She’s lost her partner too, so it seems a fairly logical solution. Nicky said they do get on well, but of course it’s up to Wayne to decide.’
‘Lord! It’s complicated. But what will you do – about staying at the house, I mean?’
She hesitated. For the last two hours she had been thinking of little else. Secretly she was hurt that Will hadn’t asked her to move in with him – not so much as suggested it all week. Admittedly, she didn’t like the flat, but it would have been nice to have the offer. ‘Oh, I’ll probably just sit it out for a while and see what happens. They’ll have to get a replacement for Nicky, and a lot depends on what she’s like.’
‘Or he?’
‘Yes, it could be a man. Jo said she’d prefer that.’
‘Well I wouldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’d be jealous.’ He reached up and fondled her breast, dripping water on her blouse.
‘Will, don’t be silly. It would be someone in his twenties. He wouldn’t be interested in me.’
‘Don’t you be so sure. Brad’s in his twenties and I’ve noticed him eyeing you up.’
She said nothing. Brad was partly the reason she was late. He had suggested a drink in the Stag to celebrate another win on the horses. No one else was free, so it had been just the two of them. But the conversation was hardly erotic – mainly betting systems and Brad’s views on the renovations at the Hackney Empire.
Will was busy soaping his feet. ‘Talking of Brad, how was the market?’
‘Remarkably good, you’ll be pleased to hear. And I managed to sell those ghastly prints, at last. The woman was thrilled to bits. You’d have thought they were Picassos.’
He laughed. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Catherine. You could sell ice-cubes to the Eskimos. I’m useless at selling anything.’
‘Of course you’re not. I really missed you on the stall today. But how did the workshop go?’
‘Not bad. A few duffers, as usual. But some bright ones too.’
She picked up the loofah. ‘Want me to do your back?’
‘Yes, please.’
She scrubbed vigorously – he liked it hard. ‘Bridget sends her love, by the way. She’s back from her travels, and bubbling over! It be
ats me how those market people get away so often. And to such exotic places. Bridget’s always pleading poverty, yet it was Kashmir this year and Thailand last. And Greta’s off to Mexico next week. We were chatting about it this morning and, you know, she’s a bit of a philosopher on the quiet. She believes travelling’s in our genes. She says man’s been nomadic for so many hundreds of years, it can’t help but affect us. Apparently we’re meant to migrate, like the birds do.’
‘But isn’t there an equally strong impulse to put down roots, settle in one place?’ Will gave a shudder of pleasure at the steady circling motion of the loofah.
‘That’s what I said, but Greta reckons the travelling urge is stronger. She thinks that’s why there’s so much aggression in the world – people are stuck behind desks in nasty crowded cities, so their natural instinct to explore turns sour.’
‘Oh, that’s just plain simplistic.’
‘Maybe so, but it did make me think. And I mean, everyone seems to have travelled except me. Bridget just takes it for granted and pushes off somewhere new every year. She was telling me about this woman she met in Kashmir who’d been trekking with nomads across some Indian desert. Nomads again, you see! I felt green with envy, if you really want to know. It seemed such an amazing thing to do.’ She gazed dreamily into the fug. ‘The woman hired a camel and they slept out under the stars and cooked on a primus stove.’
‘You’d hate it, darling. You complain enough about my Baby Belling.’
‘Yes, but this isn’t the desert.’
‘Thank God. Deserts can be horrendously cold, especially at night I can’t see you sleeping under the stars when you’re the one that hogs the blankets.’
‘Will, I thought you were a romantic.’
‘Not about deserts. Or camels, for that matter. They’re notoriously bad-tempered beasts.’
‘Hers wasn’t. Bridget said she was devoted to it.’
‘I see – you want to leave me for a camel, do you?’
‘Yes!’
‘Fair enough. If I get a grant from this Stanford Birt outfit, I’ll give you half and you can hire one of the evil creatures and trek across all the deserts you can find.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
She jabbed him playfully. ‘You’re only saying that because you know you won’t get a grant.’
‘Of course. Do you think I’d want you to go gallivanting off with a bunch of randy nomads? No – jump in here instead. That’s an order from the Chief Nomad!’
She gave him one last rub with the loofah. ‘Will, I can’t. I promised to ring Andrew and Antonia.’
‘Ring them later.’
She glanced at her watch, in two minds. Then decisively she removed the watch – and her clothes.
He crooked his legs up to make room. His body was flushed from the heat, his penis already stiff and protruding through the pine-green foam. ‘Right, I’m a rugged Mongolian tribesman, and you’re a …’
They both jumped as the phone rang. ‘Leave it,’ Will said. ‘They don’t have phones in the desert. It’s just a camel bell. Soap my prick, beautiful English virgin.’
She giggled. ‘Where’s the soap?’
‘I lost it.’
They fished about in the water, grinning foolishly at each other, and she finally retrieved it, slimy soft. ‘Lie back, Chief Nomad, and close your eyes …’ She lathered her hands and moved them slowly up and back. But she could see him tensing, his brow creased in a frown.
‘Hell! That bloody phone …’
‘Ssh, darling.’
‘Can’t they take the hint and ring off?’
‘Want me to get it?’
‘No.’ He guided her hands back to his penis. ‘Unless it’s Andrew,’ he said suddenly. ‘Perhaps he’s ringing you?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t give him this number.’
‘It’s no good – I can’t stand it. I’ll have to answer the damn thing.’ He clambered out of the bath, sloshing water everywhere. ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘Back in a sec.’
He wasn’t. She could hear his voice echoing across the passage, getting louder and more annoyed. After a few minutes, she too got out, dried herself quickly and, with the towel swathed round her midriff, went into the living-room. Will was standing naked, dripping on the floor, shoulders hunched as he glowered into the receiver.
‘Okay?’ she mouthed.
He made a face. ‘Vanessa,’ he mouthed back.
She nodded and tactfully withdrew.
‘All right,’ she heard him say. ‘Have it your own way. You always bloody do.’
She stood hovering in the doorway as he slammed the receiver down. ‘What’s happened?’
‘That flaming woman! She’s just gone and cancelled the arrangements for tomorrow. She says it’s too late for Sam to be up and she doesn’t want him watching violent films. Mind you, she thinks Bambi’s violent.’
‘Oh, Will, what a shame. Perhaps you could take him out to supper instead?’
‘No, she’s kiboshed the whole thing. She said he’s going out on Sunday, so he needs an early night tomorrow. Stupid bloody excuses! What she really means is she doesn’t like him coming to this dump.’
‘I’d hardly call it a dump, Will – not now anyway.’ She glanced at the new striped curtains, the dusky purple walls, but no doubt Vanessa’s critical eye would home in only on the lumpy chairs and sagging bed. She winced at the shriek of a siren in the street. That was another thing – the constant noise: traffic hooting, drunken brawls right outside the door, unattended shop-alarms wailing at all hours. Vanessa’s Hampstead mansion looked on to the Heath, so Sam would be used to the sound of gentle birdsong, not police cars screeching past.
She went and sat beside Will on the bed, inwardly cursing Vanessa for making him so miserable.
‘I’m sorry to go on, Catherine, but it sickens me the way she’s giving Sam entirely the wrong values. He’ll grow up the most frightful snob, judging people by where they live and how many cars they own. I want to show him the other side of life – all its other sides – but what chance do I get? Vanessa’s so single minded. In her scheme of things, everything has to have a point. But why? Dandelions don’t have a point. Or house-mites. Or haikus. Or even deserts, for that matter.’
‘Oh, Will, I’m sorry, honestly. I wish there was something I could do.’
‘You do a lot, my love, just being here.’ He pulled off her skimpy towel and ran his hands across her breasts. His skin was still damp from the bath and she clung to him greedily. She wanted to forget the problems – Vanessa, Nicky, Sam – and lose herself in his body.
‘Is Stefan in?’ she whispered.
‘No.’ He kissed her eyelids. ‘I passed him on the stairs. He was going out as I came in.’
‘So it won’t matter about the noise?’
He kissed her again, in answer, then laid her gently back and pressed his head into her thatch. She loved the feel of his springy hair against her. It was one of their hors d’oeuvres, as he called them – preliminary indulgences before they got down to the main course. She closed her eyes, savouring the roughness of his hair, the subtle movements of his head.
‘Oh God, Catherine, I want you,’ he said, sitting up abruptly. ‘Go and make that wretched phone call, then we can …’
‘What phone call?’
‘I thought you had to ring your son.’
‘Damn! I’d forgotten.’ She got up reluctantly. It seemed that both her son and his were conspiring to thwart their plans.
‘Shall I go into the other room?’ Will asked.
‘No, but don’t make a sound.’ She picked up the receiver. ‘They’d have a fit if they knew I was naked and alone with a strange man.’
‘Strange?’
‘Shush!’ She was already dialling. ‘Oh, Antonia, hello. It’s Catherine. I just rang to see how you are.’
Will slid quietly off the bed and crept towards her. She raised a hand in warning, but he sneaked up
right behind and pressed his naked body against hers. She tried to shake him off, suppressing a giggle ‘yes I’m fine. How’s Andrew? … Good. And Jack and Maureen? … Oh, dear. Is it her arthritis again?’
She could feel Will’s penis, exuberantly stiff, nudging between her buttocks. His hands were cupping her breasts, his lips nuzzling the nape of her neck. It was all she could do to talk coherently.
‘Has she been to the doctor? … Acupuncture? Really? I wouldn’t have thought …’ He was kissing her right shoulder, fierce blue-laser kisses, followed by a slow swirl of his tongue. ‘Oh, I see. The doctor suggested it. But wouldn’t … ?’
He pushed her gently forward, and she stifled a gasp of shock as he slid defiantly in.
‘What? Yes, I, er, am on my own. I just … dropped something. Sorry. So’s Maureen going to try it then?’
He was moving now with tantalizing slowness, pushing in, drawing back, his hands still fondling her breasts. She pressed back against him, hard. Her voice was punctuated by his movements and must sound distinctly odd: jerky little gasps each time he thrust in. Yes, Antonia, I am a bit out of breath. I’ve been … running upstairs.’ She used her free hand to stroke his thigh, but the angle was frustratingly wrong. ‘Nicky tried acupuncture once, when she hurt her back windsurfing. She said it was quite good … Mm, of course I will. I’ll phone them tomorrow … I’m in a bit of a rush at the moment, I’m afraid … Okay, just a quick word.’ She used the pause to shift position, leaning forward across the table so that Will could thrust more deeply. ‘… Oh, hello, darling! How are you? I can’t be long.’ She had a peculiar feeling that Andrew could actually see her – see her stiffening nipples and the rapturous expression on her face. She tried to put on a different expression, one more suited to the mother of a twenty-six-year-old surveyor. But her lips were opening in frustrated kissing movements; her breasts pushing into Will’s hands. She was so used to his wild animal noises, the silence seemed all wrong. She wanted him to roar and bellow; loved his sheer audacity. Who else would be so crazy as to do this during a phone call?
‘… Er, nothing much. Just the usual. I’ve been at the market all day … Yes, it was, thanks.’ How on earth could she concentrate? All her instincts urged her to let go, to respond to Will, move in time with him, yet she was forced to keep still, glued to the receiver.
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