She had added a doorbell. It was only a stick-on one; he had seen them on so many houses, linked to a wireless bell inside the house. He hoped she had asked permission, his inner letting agent thought. He pressed it and the Westminster chimes sounded from the rear of the house, followed by swift, sharp footsteps. She flung the door open with a sudsy hand.
‘Yes?’ she said.
‘Louise. We have to talk.’ He hadn’t really thought this through. He had no idea how this conversation was going to go.
‘Do I know you?’ She was closing the door a little, putting it between him and her.
He instinctively put his foot in the lessening gap. ‘What? Do you know me?’ He pushed forward and was inside, slamming the door behind him. ‘You’ve ruined my life and you ask if you know me?’
She backed away, hands to her chest clutching a teatowel but with no fear in her eyes. ‘I shall call the police,’ she said, too calmly.
‘Why don’t you? Yes, why don’t you?’ He snatched up the phone from the hall table and offered it to her. ‘999? Or is 101 enough? Shall I dial for you?’
She looked at him, at bay against the door of the cupboard under the stairs, a woman on the verge of a scream. Then, making up her mind, she dried her hands on her teatowel and relaxed, leading the way into the kitchen. ‘You’ll notice I’ve got rid of the smell,’ she said over her shoulder, putting the towel neatly over the handle of the oven door to dry. ‘It was, quite literally, an old sprout and a kipper skeleton, slipped down behind the cooker. Anyway, it’s quite a nice house without it, so you should be grateful.’ She looked at him hard. ‘I assume you haven’t come here to put up the rent or anything.’
‘Why would I do that? You know as well as I do that I don’t work there any more.’
‘Really?’ She raised her eyebrows and turned on a tap to fill the kettle. ‘Coffee? Tea?’
‘No. Neither. For God’s sake, Louise, this isn’t a social call.’
‘Then, what is it?’ She looked genuinely puzzled and he wondered just how sane, on a scale of one to ten, she actually was.
‘It’s to say, you’ve ruined my life. I hope you’re happy now. What was it I did to you that was so terrible?’
‘I ruined your life? I like that.’ She was busy with mugs and coffee. ‘Are you sure …?’
‘Oh, all right, then. Coffee. No sugar. How can we be doing this? You lied to everyone, to Megan. You made up so much, I … I don’t know where to begin.’
‘You’ve gone a bit white, actually,’ she remarked, as though he wasn’t there for anything other than a friendly chat. ‘Go through into the lounge and I’ll bring the coffee in when it’s plunged.’
He stood staring for a long minute, then with a shrug went through the hallway into the lounge. She had made that nice, too, all creams and browns, very restful, very calming. He needed all the calming he could get.
As he sat there, waiting, he realised how he missed his phone. He would be checking texts now, emails, Facebook. If the wait went on, he could play Cookie Jam. But as it was, all he could do was look around him, trying to find something in this room that would tell him something about the woman out there in the kitchen, humming quietly to herself and making him a cup of coffee.
Then, there she was, with a mug in each hand. ‘You didn’t say,’ she said, ‘but I’ve put milk. I couldn’t remember how you took it.’
‘What do you mean, can't remember?’ he said snappily as he took the mug from her. ‘We spent one night together and then you … well, I don’t know what you did, but we apparently had sex here, no frills, no plumped pillows and a quick fag afterwards. How can you know how I take my coffee?’
She sat opposite him and curled her legs under her, in Megan’s familiar pose. ‘You are a silly,’ she said, blowing on her drink. ‘You’ve always been like this, playing games, pretending you don’t know me. And how did it feel, eh, when I played it on you just now?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Not nice, is it?’
He put the mug down on the hearth and leaned forward. ‘I. Don’t. Know. You.’ He jabbed the air between them with each word. ‘Yes, I may have had sex with you …’
‘Actually,’ she broke in, shrilly, ‘made love is the phrase I prefer. Animals have sex.’
‘Then that’s what we did. I don’t care for you a jot, do you understand? I remember nothing, less than nothing of this famous one night stand we are supposed to have had. All I remember of the sex here was that I woke up with no clothes on and a sodding great love bite on my hip.’
‘Don’t forget the lipstick,’ she said, sneering.
‘Oh, yes, the lipstick. I won't pretend that my sex life has been varied or even very frequent,’ he said, ‘but one thing I am sure of is that, no matter how many blow jobs a person has, lipstick in a perfect circle on the underwear is not something you see that often. It was clearly a plant.’
‘Little woman agree, did she?’ she said, gulping her coffee.
‘As a matter of fact, yes, in a way, she did. It was all the lies you told her when you stalked her at work that did the damage.’
‘Stalked?’ She was outraged. ‘Stalked? I certainly did no such thing. We bumped into each other.’
‘And you told her a load of lies.’
‘I told her what we like to do when we’re alone, yes. If she doesn’t like that kind of thing, then perhaps she shouldn’t be with you. Simple as that.’
‘But we don’t do anything, do we?’ He was exasperated and also getting a little scared. He could feel the adrenalin beginning to course through his body and he was ready for flight. Because it wouldn’t be right to fight with this woman who was so clearly, patently as mad as a tree. ‘We’re never alone.’
She spread an eloquent arm. ‘I don’t see anyone, do you?’
‘This is hardly a tryst, is it?’ Lord knows where he had dredged that word up from. It was the kind of thing Mike Green would use to describe his dodgy dealings to make them sound wholesome. ‘I came to see you to … to …’
‘Yes? To do what? To have some more of what you like to get from me? You know I can refuse you nothing.’ She put her coffee down and stood up, facing him. ‘I’m always ready for you, you know,’ she said, licking her lips. ‘I always make sure I’m good and ready.’ She unzipped her jeans and began to peel them down but he was on his feet and grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms out to the sides. ‘Oh,’ she murmured, arching back. ‘Rough. How I like it.’
He shook her and she went limp so he shook her some more then before he knew it she was back on the sofa and he was leaning over her, his hands around her throat. ‘I don’t care, right now,’ he hissed, ‘if I kill you. If you really want to know, I would quite welcome it. Handing myself over to the police,’ he squeezed harder and her hands came up and grabbed his wrists, pulling frantically. ‘I wouldn’t need a trial. I would, what do they call it, allocute and just get a nice long sentence. In a nice warm cell, three square meals a day, some classes in how to clean toilets effectively.’ He squeezed once more and then let go and stood back. ‘But, on balance, I think not. Not today. I don’t want my son to have a murderer for a father. But I do want you to tell me here, now, that you made it all up and that you’ll tell Megan it was lies.’
She was massaging her neck and gagging, falling sideways on the sofa, her knees up in the foetal position.
He wanted to kick her, bite her, strangle her, anything to let the rage out of him. He had never hated anyone so much in his life. Then, she whispered something that he didn’t catch.
‘What? Speak up. I didn’t hurt you that much. Come on.’ He shook her.
She coughed and moistened her lips. Then, she looked up at him from where she lay. ‘Yes,’ she said, clearly. ‘Yes, I made it up. It was all lies.’
He could hardly believe it. She had said it. She had actually said it. Now he could have his life back. ‘And you’ll tell Megan?’
‘I’ll tell anyone you like,’ she said. ‘I … I don’t feel very well, Chris.
I think you’ve hurt me.’ She held her throat and he could see the bruises beginning to come out.
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said, callously. ‘I’m going now. Just make sure you tell Megan it was lies, now, won't you? Because if you don’t, I’ll be back.’ He looked down at her and his adrenalin drained away. ‘Look, Louise … I didn’t mean to hurt you. I mean now and also the other times. You know, the times we … made love.’ It was a big concession; he had always hated that phrase.
She looked up at him through hooded lids. ‘Oh, those times. Yes, those times. Chris, you fool. You really are as dumb as shit. I never slept with you. You arrogant … piece of shit.’ The vehemence made her cough and he watched as she retched, strings of bile tying her to the sofa. ‘We never had sex, made love, bonked … call it what you like, you’ve never had me. Never.’ She laughed hoarsely. ‘But I had you, didn’t I? Good and proper. Oh, yes.’
He grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. ‘You mean … never?’
‘I mean never,’ she said, limp in his hands. ‘Yes, you went home with me. But what makes you think I want to sleep with anyone who just puts it about where he fancies, with someone he’s just met? But before I had to sling you out on your sorry, promiscuous arse, you passed out anyway. Very complimentary, I don’t think. But, it turns out, you are very, very suggestible. I told you all the things I thought you might be into, whispered it in your pathetic, drunken, unconscious ear. And, it seems, it stuck. And so,’ she shrugged as best she could, ‘the rest is history.’
He didn’t know what to do. He was pretty sure he had a court case, right there. But how would it look? She would win hands down, sure to. He wanted to drag her round to tell Megan, to shove her out of his front door and begin his life again. But instead, he just shoved her away from him, in the heat of his anger not hearing the dull thud as her head hit the corner of the fireplace.
He let himself out.
Who by Fire
*
‘Claire?’
‘Chris? Is everything all right?’ Claire was at work and not best pleased to be getting a call so soon, but, as she tried to remind herself, blood is thicker than water. And she had worried about sending him to the lioness’s den.
‘I just wanted to tell you that I saw her. She said it was all lies. Even the times I thought I remembered.’
‘What? Are you serious? How did she manage to convince you that you had …’ she was conscious that people were beginning to stare, ‘on the other times?’
‘I don’t know.’ That was actually a very valid point she had there. ‘I didn’t ask.’
‘Well, I seriously suggest you find out. If this woman is going around drugging people,’ she had dropped her voice, ‘as I think she must have done, it has to be stopped. Agree?’
‘Yes. Yes, I suppose so. But … she said she would tell Megan that it was all lies. I don’t want to report her to the police, if she says she’ll do that. She might not …’
Claire loved her brother. She knew he wasn’t stupid. But she could hardly believe her ears. ‘Chris. Oh, Chris … have you been in touch with Megan at all since you split up?’
The phone line sounded strange, kind of echoing and dead.
‘Chris? Chris? Are you there?’ She looked at the phone in disgust. ‘Bloody payphone. Where the hell did he manage to find one of those, these days?’ She hit redial and with many whirrs and clicks, she got through. The phone rang and rang and rang and was eventually picked up.
‘Hello?’
Oh, bugger. Little old lady voice. ‘Hello. Can you tell me, is there a young man nearby? Wearing jeans and a shirt, jumper, jacket?’
There was a phlegmy chuckle at the other end. ‘Any number of them, ducks,’ said the voice. ‘Do you want one in particular?’
‘Just call out Chris.’ Claire had no time for small talk.
In the distance, down the crackly line, the old dear called out as instructed, then came back to the receiver. ‘No, ducks, nobody called that. Do you want someone else?’
‘No,’ Claire sighed. ‘No one else. Just Chris. Thank you for your trouble.’
‘No trouble, dear,’ the woman said. ‘I hope you find him all right.
‘Yes,’ Claire said. ‘Yes. Me too.’
Chris hadn’t used a payphone for years and had forgotten how they could eat money, especially when the call was to a mobile. He had hardly started to tell Claire about his visit to Louise when the line went dead and he had no more change. He didn’t want to buy anything so he thought he would leave the rest of the conversation for when he had some change. He wasn’t going to do anything to scupper what might be his last chance to get his life on track, but he did see the wisdom in making sure Louise made good on her promise. He would find her at work tonight, keep badgering her until he knew she had done what she promised. As he mooched away, his head full of maybe, he thought he heard someone call his name. He stopped and listened. So did the dog. But there was nothing more and he walked on and for some reason, the tape that ran constantly in his head started playing ‘Don’t stop believing’, stuck on the line about the midnight train. He just hated it when that happened but let his steps fall into time with it anyway.
Claire put the phone down and thought for a moment, then reached behind her for her coat. ‘Just popping out,’ she announced, to no one in particular and went out, leaving open mouths behind her. Claire Rowan never did the unexpected. They should have been expecting it, therefore, but somehow no one was.
Megan was enjoying a quiet few moments after a fraught lunch with Kyle. He had taken rather a shine to Nerds and Monsters and was engrossed, lying on his tummy on the carpet, thumb in his mouth and feet waving lazily in the air. Megan had a coffee and a book and was concentrating on neither; her head was full of maybes and she didn’t want to spoil her daydream. It was in a very frail bubble which would take very little to go pop.
Kyle jumped slightly as the doorbell went but didn’t take his eyes off the screen. Megan went reluctantly to answer it. It was bound to be Sam; she hadn’t answered a single call or returned a PM or a text or an email either. It was about time she arrived in person. She opened the door, excuses at the ready.
‘Claire! Hello. Umm … come in.’
Claire stepped over the threshold, but that was all. ‘I can't stay. I’ve just popped out from work and they think it’s weird enough as it is. If I’m not back soon, well … I need to be back soon. Have you seen Chris at all since he left?’
‘No. What do you mean?’ She didn’t say that seeing him staggering around with a drunken woman in a dark alley perhaps didn’t count. Perhaps it didn’t.
‘He’s been to see Louise.’
Megan snorted and looked behind her to make sure the door into the lounge was shut. Kyle wouldn’t understand this conversation but that was no reason why he should have to hear it.
‘I don’t mean like that,’ Claire said. ‘I mean, he went to confront her. To find out why she was lying about him.’
‘So, you buy the lying story, do you?’ Megan was surprised. Claire had no rose-tinted glasses where her brother was concerned, not as a rule.
Claire rocked her hand. ‘Not sure, before today. But he’s just rung me and said that she said it was all lies.’
‘You said.’ Megan folded her arms.
‘No, I mean, all lies. Even the twice he thought happened. She just pretended it had all taken place, God knows why. He rang, but we were cut off.’
‘Has he still got his mobile, then? I thought the office would cut that off, no problem. Dave Stanley has never been one to flash the cash.’
‘It was a call box and when I called it back, he had gone. But he’s planning to come round, Megan. He wants to come home. Can he?’
Megan’s face said it all.
‘As I thought. I saw you out on Saturday night and I happen to know the guy you were with.’
‘You know Will?’
‘Not well, but I know he is good pe. You know he’s …’
>
‘Gay. No, he isn’t.’
‘I was going to say older, but if you say gay, I wouldn’t argue.’ Claire gave her a funny look. ‘But what I wondered was, how long has it been going on? Do you want Chris back, with all his hang-ups and the black dog and all that stuff? If you have Will. I mean, I have to love Chris and it isn’t easy. I just wondered …’
Megan took a step forward and was suddenly crying over her almost-sister-in-law’s shoulder. She had cried a lot in the past months, God alone knew how much she’d cried, but these tears seemed to come from somewhere else, somewhere that she hadn’t plumbed as yet and for a while she thought they might never stop. But eventually, they did and she sniffed and let the other woman go.
Claire smiled. ‘Better?’ she asked.
‘Much,’ Megan said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Sorry. I know you don’t really do the emotional stuff.’
‘I do it,’ Claire said, ‘but on my own. Our parents may have seemed pretty normal to the casual glance, but they managed to bugger up me and my brother good and proper. Anyway, what I came to say was, if he turns up, best Will isn’t here. But that said, don’t let him find out from someone else. It could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, you know. He’s very fragile.’
Megan smiled ruefully.
‘Yes, I know you know that. But his depression is coming and going right now and every time he comes out of it, he seems to plunge deeper when he is on the downward swing. I know he’s drinking too much. I know that … well, he’s not being all that choosy at the moment is all I’ll say.’
‘I know. I saw.’
‘Ah. Well, you know what I mean, then.’
‘Yes.’
‘Megan. This is serious. If you don’t want to have him back, you need to tell him so. But don’t shut the door in his face. Let him have his things. Let him see his son.’
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