by Janene Wood
It was only a block to where she had parked the blue Cortina, but he wanted to stop every few metres to have a pash and feel her up. It was almost impossible to hurry him along; he clearly wanted to shag her right there on the street, but she used her feminine wiles and managed to get him back to the car and into the front passenger seat. Again with the kissing and the pawing, but she playfully fended him off and started the engine. Pushing her long, sleek hair over her shoulder, she checked her mirrors and edged out onto the road.
“So how come you’re not married, Roy, or have a girlfriend?” she asked casually. “I thought someone as big and handsome as you would have been snapped up long before now.” She put her hand on his knee to keep his mind on the job.
“I was married, once. A while ago now,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Ah, so you’re divorced. That explains it. Lucky me.”
“Not divorced, widowed,” he slurred.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Was it an accident?”
“No, she… Let's not talk about that. Kinda spoils the mood, yeah? What about you? No boyfriend? Someone as hot as you?”
“Well, I get offers, sure, but I don’t want to be tied down, you know?”
“Yeah, you’re far too young and sexy to be tied down. Better just to take your fun where you find it. Like tonight, right?”
“Absolutely,” she agreed wholeheartedly. “Look, on second thought, do you mind if we don’t go back to my place? My flat-mate's such a disapproving old cow. Whenever I bring a guy home, I get lectured for a week after. I have a much better idea. I know this place, not far from here. Do you like to do it outdoors?” Her voice was low and sexy and filled with promise. “Fucking under the stars makes me so hot. Are you up for a bit of adventure?”
“Sure, baby! Wherever you want,” he agreed eagerly, too drunk to realise how cold it was outdoors.
They drove a mile or so along the edge of Hampstead Heath until they reached a secluded stretch of road where the street lights had been vandalised. The girl brought the car to a complete stop. Leaning across, she pushed her tongue into his mouth and placed one hand on his bulging groin. “Follow me,” she whispered, and jumped out of the car before he could do more than groan in frustration.
The girl ran down the grassy slope, before turning to make sure he was following. Of course he was. He was following his dick.
“Wait!” he called, but she kept running, disappearing around a copse of trees.
She finally stopped and waited for him to catch up. She kissed him again. He was impatient to get started, but she took his hand and pulled him after her, taking him further inside the park. They were well out of sight of the road now and any potential witnesses. The moon was just a sliver but the stars were bright.
He had finally had enough, and pulled her roughly to him. She let him kiss her and run his hands over her body, but when he tried to unbutton her blouse, she whispered, “Let me undress for you,” and took a few steps backward. The air was cold but she didn’t feel it. She was on fire with lust and adrenaline and was surprised her body didn’t steam in the cold night air.
“Did your wife undress for you, Roy?” she asked coyly, as she removed her blouse and unhooked her bra.
Roy watched, hypnotized, not even hearing the question. She shook her head in disgust and her dark hair fell forward to cover her breasts.
“Fucking teaser,” he whispered breathlessly.
She unzipped her red, knee-length boots one by one and tossed them away. “Or maybe she wasn't into sex,” she suggested helpfully. Roy took a step forward but she wiggled her finger at him and he stepped back again, obedient. She unbuttoned her short denim skirt and let it to fall to the ground. Then she stepped out of her panties and twirled them around one finger before flinging them onto a nearby bush.
He licked his lips and hurriedly unbuckled his belt.
“Is that why you beat her to death? Because you were horny and she wouldn’t let you fuck her? Or were you just plain drunk and nasty?”
That got his attention. Halfway through pulling his jeans off, he stopped what he was doing and glared at her. “What are you talking about, you stupid bitch?” Finally sensing all was not as it should be, he went on the defensive. How predictable. “You know nuthin’,” he slurred.
True colours. Roy lunged for her and grabbed the top of her arm. She kneed him in the groin and he doubled over in agony.
“That was from me. You can thank Irene for the rest. But I’m going to give you the chance to live you never gave her. If you can outrun me or hide so I can’t find you, I’ll let you live. That's fair, don’t you think?”
“Fuck off, you stupid cow,” he gasped, still huddled on the grass, more angry than afraid. As the pain and nausea began to subside, he managed to get back onto his feet.
“You'll pay for this, bitch,” he blustered, but the sexy girl was gone.
Roy scanned the shadows to either side, determined to get what he came for. Hearing the soft pad of feet on the grass behind him, he whirled around so she wouldn’t catch him off guard again.
But it wasn’t her. Roy’s eyes opened wide in disbelief at the sight of the snarling, nightmarish shape creeping toward him. He screamed a short, sharp scream of terror and turned, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to escape. He began to run.
Final Goodbyes
By 2am the last of the party-goers had said their goodbyes, the doors of The Lord Dudley were closed irrevocably behind them, and Jack and Kate found themselves out on the street without any means of getting home. A few late revelers from nearby pubs were in the same boat, so they followed them toward Old Brompton Road, hoping to grab an empty taxi heading toward the city. Despite the late hour, they weren’t in any kind of a hurry and strolled along arm in arm, content just to be together, aware that this night marked the end of an era.
The night was clear and cold and Kate shivered inside her thin cardigan. Jack took a silver hip flask from his pocket and wordlessly offered it to her. She drank gratefully and passed it back, taking an extra moment to commit his features, illuminated clearly by the thin slice of the new moon, to memory.
Neither of them wanted to admit their relationship was destined to change forever after tonight, but they couldn't help but be aware of it. After tonight, who knew when they would see each other again?
After tonight, they would no longer be Jack and Kate, joined-at-the-hip flat-mates and confidantes. They would no longer be privy to the intimate, often boring, but always important details of each other’s daily lives. When they spoke it would be to report the highlights of their week or month, or God forbid, year: a neat summation of their time apart. Of course, they would always be brother and sister, and probably remain closer than most, despite the physical distance between them, but that distance, together with the demands of their separate lives and respective partners, would eventually erode the bonds they now took for granted. That made them best friends.
“You know you’re going to miss me,” said Kate matter-of-factly. “A lot. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“You know it’s time,” said Jack, smothering a yawn. “Time to stop running and settle down at last.” He was finally beginning to flag. It had been a long, physically tiring day and he had drunk far more than was prudent, particularly in view of his early flight tomorrow. Or was it today? But it was his last night in London and he wasn’t done yet.
Kate was wide awake as usual, despite the late hour. “So you really love him then.”
“Yeah, I really do,” replied Jack sincerely. “But I’ve never been in a serious relationship before, so I have to admit to being a trifle...nervous.” He laughed ruefully before admitting, “Actually, I'm scared shitless.”
Kate couldn’t help smiling. That was a big admission from super-confident, never-say-I’m-sorry Jack McDermott. “You’ll be fine. Even though you are traveling half-way round the world and leaving all your friends behind. I think what you’re doing is really brave.”
/>
Jack snorted, with amusement or irony, Kate couldn’t tell which. “Leaving London is the easy part. I still have friends in Sydney, after all – the few who bothered to keep in touch after I pissed off over here, at least. It’s the shacking up and making a commitment that’s scaring the shit out of me.”
Kate relieved Jack once more of his flask and nodded. “I can imagine,” she acknowledged sympathetically, helping herself to another generous swig. The fiery liquid slid smoothly down her throat, sending delicious tentacles of warmth throughout her body. Even her toes began to thaw out, although that might be her imagination. “You need to relax and try not to think too hard. I’m pretty sure it will all work out if it's what you really want. I want you to be happy, bruv.”
Jack reached for Kate’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I know.”
They walked on in companionable silence for a moment before Jack spoke again. “So how are things with you and Ryan? I haven't seen him around much lately.”
“He's been really busy with work, but hopefully things will stop being so crazy soon.”
“So what do you think? Is he ‘the one’?”
The question took Kate by surprise and she took a moment to think about it. “I’m not really sure,” she answered honestly. “He’s a great guy; funny, charming, sweet. Everyone likes him...even you,” she grinned. “We always have a great time when we’re together and I have no reason not to trust him. So I should be able to tell him everything, right?”
Jack shrugged noncommittally, not sure what she wanted to hear.
“It’s just that after what happened...you know, with...” Even after all this time, she couldn’t bring herself to say his name out loud. Jack knew the bare bones of what had happened, but no one except Tayo knew the entire truth. Not even Jonathon, who had witnessed first-hand the aftermath of their breakup. “I can’t seem to let down my guard. I guess I’m scared things will turn out the same way.”
Kate absently ran her fingers over the raised pink scar at the base of her left thumb. It was a small, squashed figure-eight, lying on its side, about two centimetres long. The mathematical symbol for infinity. His scar was more or less identical to hers. The twin scars were meant to symbolize the infinite nature of their love, the joining of their two souls for all time. To be a physical link between them. But things hadn’t turned out quite the way she planned, and now it was just an ugly reminder of her naiveté. In her defense, they had both consumed copious quantities of homemade grappa and were more than a little drunk at the time. But she had never been more serious in her life than when she committed herself to him, body and soul, that long ago night.
Despite her angst, she felt a warm frisson at the bitter-sweet memory of their time together. They had been so besotted, so certain their relationship could stand whatever life threw at them; it was no wonder fate decided to intervene and knock them down a peg or two.
It had been clear and bright, just like tonight, but warm and fragrant; full of promise. They had lain together in a grassy field beneath a sky filled with more stars than Kate had ever seen before. He attempted to point out the different constellations to her, but she couldn’t tell one star from the next. He called her an ignorant hussy, for which offence she sat on him and tickled him until he rolled her over and pinned her hands to the ground beside her head, kissing her till her head spun.
After they recovered their breath, he became unexpectedly serious. He pulled her up so they were sitting face to face and took a small knife from his pocket. He asked her to cut him, so he would always have a physical reminder of her, even when they were apart. He wanted the world to know he was hers forever.
Moved by the pure romance of the idea, Kate demanded that he cut her first, but he resisted, not wanting to mar any part of her beautiful body. Kate was insistent. “I know in my heart we will always be together,” she argued passionately, “but if, for some reason, fate tears us apart, then it will remind me how stupid I was to let you go!” She wondered for the thousandth time if she'd had an unconscious premonition that night of what was to come; why else would she say such a thing?
He did as she asked, slicing through the soft flesh at the base of her thumb while she tensed her body and held her breath. Then Kate made the mistake of looking at the bloody wound and fainted dead away. For one insane moment he thought he'd killed her, but after a few interminable seconds she came back around. Self-consciously, she told him it was normal; she invariably fainted at the sight of her own blood.
With sudden alarm, Kate realised Ryan didn’t even know that about her! What else had she kept from him because she had been too afraid?
Her mind returned inexorably to that night. After completing her half of the pact, they had solemnly touched their wounds together, mixing their blood and pledging undying love and fidelity. They had promised to love each other forever.
What a joke! Her naiveté still rankled, even after all this time. But she was considerably wiser now. There was simply no comparison between him and Ryan. In fact, she admitted to herself for the first time, part of her attraction to Ryan was due to his utter dissimilarity to him.
Kate allowed that they were both good looking in their own way, but Ryan was as Anglo as they came, sharing similar physical traits to herself, making it glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that they were a matched pair. Ryan was blue-eyed, fair-skinned and sandy-haired, while he embodied the archetypical Mediterranean male: olive-complexioned, dark-haired and brown-eyed. He was really too tall at six-three, whereas at five-eleven, Ryan was only a little taller than herself. Which meant she didn’t have to crane her neck and stand on tip-toe to kiss him. Ryan was gregarious and lively while he was more reticent, more inclined to deep thought and long silences, which of course made him moody and mistrustful.
Ryan had proven himself to be steadfast and loyal, loving her with an almost fanatical devotion – but not in a creepy, let’s cut each other up and bleed all over each other, kind of way. There was no reason to suppose Ryan would ever run from the real Kate, not the way he ended up doing. Kate resolved to try and open up more to him in future.
“Well, the only advice I can offer is this: don’t settle,” said Jack, breaking into Kate’s reverie. Jack turned to his sister and took both her hands in his. “I’m serious, Kate. You’ll never be happy if you settle for the next best thing.”
“I won’t settle, I promise.” Kate thought he was being overly dramatic but she answered sincerely. “I’d rather be alone than be stuck with second best.”
Out of the blue, Kate asked Jack, “Have you heard from Simon?”
They were seated on opposite sides of her kitchen floor with their backs against the cupboard doors. Kate wasn’t sure how they had ended up there, but tired as they were, it seemed to be working for them. They had finally found a taxi to drive them back to Pembroke Square, but on arrival, had been unwilling to call it a night, knowing it was their last chance to talk before Jack literally disappeared over the far horizon.
Jack grimaced. “No, nothing. Not since I wrote and told him I was coming home.”
“You should call him.”
“I will, when I get to Sydney. Maybe I’ll take a long weekend and fly up and see him.”
“Good. You know, he’s probably just busy with work. And he’s never been a good letter writer. I’m lucky to get one back for every three I send him.”
“You know that’s not the reason.”
“You’re reading more into it than you should.”
“He still blames me,” said Jack bitterly. “And why not? We all need to blame someone.”
“It was an accident, Jack.”
“I should have stopped him. That’s what Simon thinks.”
“Well, he’s wrong. No one could have stopped him – and Simon knows that, deep down.”
“It was my idea to go out that night.”
“So what! It was hardly the first time, and no one ever got hurt before. We were young and stupid; that
’s all any of us are guilty of. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself. It doesn’t change anything.”
“It’s Simon who blames me.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Well, why hasn’t he replied to my letter?”
“Maybe he's waiting to talk to you in person. He’s family, Jack. When it comes down to it, that’s all that matters in this world. Simon knows that. And you know that.”
“You’re right,” said Jack, clutching the lifeline she had thrown him. “That’s all that matters – for better or worse.” He hesitated before asking, “Do you ever wonder what things would be like now if Mum hadn’t died?”
“Sometimes. Not as much as I used to. I used to fantasize about how perfect everything would be, but I guess I finally grew up.”
“Still, everything would be different. Sam would still be here, for one thing.”
“Sweet, funny Sam,” said Kate wistfully. “I bet he’d be the formula-one champion of the world by now, rolling in money and fawned over by a constant stream of beautiful women.”
“And Simon would be one of those professional football gits who are totally up themselves. He’d be fighting off groupies and drinking himself stupid, instead of working his fingers to the bone with no social life.”
Kate laughed. “I don’t think things are as bad as all that! He seems to enjoy his work, actually, and he's making good money at last.”
“You're taking all the fun out of the game, bruv,” Jack admonished her.
“Oooh, sorry.” She laughed then, as a suitable scenario for Jack came to mind. “And you... Instead of being a big man in the City, buying and selling stocks and bonds, or whatever it is you do all day, you’d be the lawn-mowing king of Fiddlers Creek. Instead of running off to Sydney when you did, you would have gotten Sally Caruthers pregnant – just to prove to everyone that you could...”
Jack snorted his amusement; Sally had had huge crush on him in fourth form.