by Moody, David
The coffee cups were burning his hands. He quickly went into the bedroom, put them down, then just stared at her lying on the bed looking up at him, waiting. Christ, she was beautiful. The single sheet they’d been using in the heat had been discarded and she lay there in the middle of the empty mattress, wearing a lace and mesh nightie which barely reached the top of her legs. ‘How long has it been?’ he asked, thinking out loud.
‘Too long. Come here.’
He dropped his shorts. ‘Have you got any idea what I want to do to you?’ he asked, crawling onto the bed and sitting astride her.
‘I can imagine. You still horny then?’
‘What do you think?’
She stared into his eyes and let her hand slide down, heading between his legs. She gently stroked him, running her fingertips lightly along his full erect length, all the way to the tip then back down again. ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘I think you’re still horny.’
‘You have that effect on me.’
‘Good. I was beginning to wonder.’
She sat up and kissed him quick, her tongue pressing against his, exploring his mouth. He reciprocated instinctively, lost in the moment. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he said in a breathless gap between kisses.
‘Why thank you very much,’ she replied, grinning at him. ‘Now shut up. Less talk, more action. On your back, boy.’
He did as he was told. Sam nibbled his skin, tenderly kissing and licking the area around his groin, then she shifted position and lowered herself down onto his hard-on. She gasped at the size of him tonight, and he shuddered with excitement as he disappeared inside her.
Steven turned his head to one side, eyes screwed shut with pleasure. When he opened them again, all he could see was the door across the landing.
Concentrate. Don’t do this... not now...
She was grinding against him now, flexing her muscles and lifting herself up to the point when she thought she’d almost lost him, just the tip of him still inside, then coming down again fast, riding a wave of almost electric pleasure. She was watching him, but she knew he wasn’t watching her. She took his chin in her hand, turned him to face her and kissed him again. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you too,’ he said, and when she let go of him he turned his head back. Sam continued to move, running her nails down his chest now. She picked up one of his hands and held it to her right breast, cupping it. He was staring into the dark now. She knew she was losing him.
‘What’s wrong?’
He hesitated. Froze. ‘Sorry, I can’t...’
‘Come on, love. Please...’
Steven was as confused as Sam. He didn’t know what was happening. Couldn’t understand it at first. He thought he wanted her, no, he knew it, but he couldn’t do it. He felt his erection beginning to droop inside her. He looked at Sam, eyes locked on hers, and he wanted to explain what he was feeling but he couldn’t. He tried to talk but no words came out. It was like they were stuck in his throat, like he was being strangled.
‘You feeling okay? Was it the food?’ Sam asked, sounding strangely hopeful. Better that a bellyful of grease and beer was swashing around and making him feel nauseous than the alternative.
‘It’s not that,’ he said, trying to explain but failing hopelessly. ‘It’s just... It’s not you, it’s me. I should...’
Nothing was making sense. The harder he tried to stop thinking about it, the more confused he became. ‘It’s all right,’ she told him, though she wasn’t sure if it was, sliding off and sitting down next to him. ‘We don’t have to make love. We can just snuggle up together and go to sleep. We’ve got all weekend. I had a really nice night, Steve. It felt like it used to. We could just...’
‘I’m sorry, Sam...’ he said, standing up and scooping up his shorts and shirt. He left the room, his heart sinking as rapidly as hers.
✽✽✽
Steven sat out on the patio with another can of beer. Hours later, he was still there. It had been late when they’d got home and he had no idea what time it was now. He kept thinking, I’ll go inside in a minute, I’ll go and apologise... but the right minute never came. He didn’t know how he was going to face her. She’d inevitably want to talk about it, but that was the very last thing he wanted. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight. He’d wait until she was asleep before getting into bed.
Christ, the irony of it all. A year ago all he’d wanted to do was fuck when she wanted to talk. And now here they were, positions reversed, neither of them happy.
He’d taken a four-pack of beer from the kitchen on his way through and he was already two-thirds of the way through the third can. Maybe if I get completely pissed, he thought, totally bloody annihilated, then maybe what just happened – what didn’t happen – might make sense. If nothing else, it’d give him something of an excuse. But they both knew this had nothing to do with bad food or too much alcohol. There’d been no drink involved earlier in the week when she’d come onto him and he’d made those fucking pathetic excuses about being tired from work and not being in the right frame of mind. He was still managing to wank every few days, and that made him feel even worse. Jesus, he even thought about her when he did it. So how come he could toss himself off alone in the bathroom, but when his wife – his beautiful, gorgeous, sexy wife – came onto him, he froze.
He’d almost fallen asleep when something startled him and he sat up fast. Too fast. He grabbed at his beer but only succeeded in knocking it over. It fizzed and bubbled as the can rolled away, spilling across the patio, disappearing down the cracks between the slabs. He picked up the can and held it to his lips to knock back the last gulp but it was all gone, just froth remaining.
Need more beer. Where did I put that other can...?
Wait. What was that?
It had to be past three, maybe as late as four, and the world was quiet save for a few occasional bursts of distant traffic noise, and yet everything seemed to have suddenly become quieter still. But it wasn’t the volume that had changed, he realised, it was the pressure. He felt a strange gust of wind, directionless and heavy, come over him as if it had just been dropped from a height, blowing down from above, not across. And then the temperature, already far higher than it should have been at this time of day and at this time of year, seemed to increase slightly. It was barely noticeable, but the change was definitely there. Was this the booze? He didn’t think so. It felt too real.
Steven looked up, and just for a second he swore the sky overhead changed colour. The entire atmosphere seemed to shift in tone from star-speckled blue-black to deep red then shades of ochre, as if the filtering layers of gas and air were being stripped away one by one. As quickly as they’d changed, the colours melted back, the layers returning in the order they’d been removed. It reminded him of something that had happened once before: a fleeting memory of standing in the rain in a hospital car park, heartbroken.
Ten seconds later and everything was back to normal, leaving him wondering if anything had happened at all. All that remained was the oppressive heat and the emptiness he felt inside. He continued to stare upwards. If that was down to the drink, then I still haven’t had enough.
2
FRIDAY 3 OCTOBER
Last person in the office. Again. The sales clerks and the customer service officers were long gone, leaving him behind to try and catch up in the silence. With an in-tray full of files and an inbox full of unanswered messages, it had been another one of those days. Actually, it had been another one of those weeks. He glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised how dark it was beyond the harsh glare of his computer screen. Almost six. It felt much later, no doubt because of the disorientating mix of early evening darkness and midday-like heat. The staff had been moaning about it all afternoon. ‘It’s like autumn’s forgotten to turn up,’ he’d heard Gail say.
‘Or summer’s refused to go,’ Janice had agreed. ‘I’m starting to miss the cold. It’s supposed to be twenty-eight degrees out there today. Christ knows what temperature it is in here. I
t’s too hot to work, I know that much.’
Steven’s mobile lit up and began to vibrate, startling him. How long had he been staring into space? The brightness of the phone made the dark even more apparent. A picture of Sam filled the small screen. ‘Hey,’ he said, answering it fast.
‘Never mind hey, where the hell are you?’
‘Still at work. I told you I’d probably hang back and try and get a few things finished.’
‘I don’t believe you...’
‘Why, what’s the matter?’
‘You never listen to a bloody word I say.’
‘I do.’
‘Then what was the last thing I said when you left this morning after you told me you were going to work late?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘I said you couldn’t. Remember why? Does the date not ring any bells?’
He looked at the calendar. ‘Shit. Dad’s birthday.’
‘Exactly. See, what did I say? You never bloody listen.’
‘I do listen. It’s been crazy here. I’ve had to deal with loads of stuff I wasn’t expecting and—’
‘—and I’m not interested. Get home, please. I’ll phone your mom and tell her we’re running late. We’ll have to meet them at the pub.’
‘Okay. Sorry. Look, I’ll leave now and I’ll be home in twenty minutes. I’ll go in what I’m wearing and...’
Steven stopped talking. She’d hung up.
✽✽✽
The last thing any of them wanted on a day as hot as today was a full carvery dinner but it was Dad’s birthday, and what Dad wanted on his birthday, Dad got. He sat at the head of the table like a spoiled kid, paper napkin tucked into his collar like a dodgy cravat. ‘Happy birthday, Jim,’ Sam said, kissing him on the cheek and handing him his present and card.
‘Happy birthday, Dad,’ Steven dutifully added.
The bar was crowded but the restaurant was half empty and they were served quickly. Jim’s plate was piled high with meat and vegetables, almost as much as the rest of them combined. ‘I’m paying for it, so I might as well eat it,’ was his questionable logic.
Steven’s mom Brenda was sitting to her husband’s right, her daughter, Steven’s sister Jessica, sitting opposite her. Jessica’s boyfriend Tom (who rarely looked out from under his ridiculous floppy fringe and hardly ever spoke) sat next to her, opposite Sam. Steven sat between them at the other end of the table facing Dad, working hard to get through a meal he didn’t particularly want. It was obvious he didn’t want to be there. His detachment didn’t deter his mother. ‘So how’s work, Steven?’ she asked, yelling down the table.
He forced down a mouthful. ‘What can I say? Work’s work.’
‘He’s really busy at the moment, aren’t you Steve?’ Sam said.
‘I’m surprised, what with this heat,’ Brenda said.
‘Bloody hell, Mom, the rest of the world doesn’t stop just ’cause it’s hot. The heat just means everything takes that much more effort.’
‘I read something online,’ Tom said from behind his curtain of hair, surprising everyone with his unexpected interjection. The rest of the table fell silent with anticipation. ‘I was on this Prepper site yesterday.’
‘Prepper site?’ Brenda asked, confused. ‘Is that something on the Internet.’
‘Preppers are cranks,’ Steven said quickly. ‘Folks who spend all their time thinking the world’s about to end.’
‘Most are cranks,’ Tom continued, unfazed, ‘not all. So I was reading this post that said this heat’s all down to some cyclical activity in the centre of the sun.’
‘Doesn’t take a brain surgeon to work out it’s to do with the sun,’ Steven sighed. This little drip really pissed him off at times. Scruffy sod. What kind of person wears torn jeans and a faded Nirvana T-shirt out to a restaurant?
‘I know that. It’s just they were saying the activity is off the scale this time. Right off the scale.’
‘So?’
‘So there’s people panicking.’
‘There’s always people panicking.’
‘It hasn’t rained for weeks.’
‘That’s not so unusual.’
‘It is.’
‘It was the summer.’
‘It was the summer. It isn’t now. It’s supposed to be autumn.’
‘Just get over it, mate. We’ll wake up in a few days and it’ll be cold and peeing down again and we’ll all be moaning because we want the sun back.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘I am.’
‘We could do with some rain,’ Brenda said, seizing on a gap in the conversation and trivialising things as usual. ‘You’re right, Thomas, it has been a while since we’ve had any. You should see the state of the garden...’
‘It’s not just about us though, is it?’ Jessica said, standing up for her boyfriend. ‘Tom was telling me about this earlier. There’s barely been any rain anywhere. Everywhere’s burning up.’
✽✽✽
Steven was relieved when his plate was finally empty and even more relieved when everyone politely declined dessert and went out to the beer garden. It wasn’t easy being around his family at the moment, his mother in particular. She tried hard – too hard – to avoid mentioning the baby, and it was obvious to the point where he thought it’d be easier for all concerned if she just started every conversation with, now I’m not going to talk about the baby, but... When she collared Tom to ask him if the people he’d been speaking to online had any real idea when she could expect the weather to break because it was playing havoc with the lawn, and when Sam and Jess were equally occupied catching up with each other, he bought his dad a pint and sat with him a short distance away from everyone else. Floodlit but still eerily dark, it looked like the middle of night out in the beer garden, but when Steven closed his eyes it felt more like the middle of day.
‘You all right, son?’ Dad asked.
‘Fine.’
‘You don’t seem yourself.’
‘Well who else do I seem?’
‘Don’t get smart. You know what I mean. Got stuff on your mind?’
‘No more than usual.’
‘How’s work?’
‘Same old, same old.’
‘As long as you’re not overdoing it.’
‘I’m just doing what needs to be done, that’s all. It’s just that there happens to be a lot needs doing right now.’
‘And how’s Sam?’
‘She’s okay. You’ve spent all night with her, Dad. You can see that.’
‘I know, but you need to keep an eye on her. She’s been through a lot. You both have.’
Steven swigged from his drink and swiftly redirected the conversation. ‘So how’s your birthday been, Dad?’
‘Birthday’s a birthday at my age, son. The number’s not important. It’s just a chance to catch up with you and your sister. We don’t see enough of you both, you especially.’
‘I know. It’s difficult.’
‘I’m sure it is. We need to make time, though, we all do. Your mother and I are just as bad, always waiting for you to come to us. The distance is the same both ways. We could come and visit, we just don’t want to get in the way, that’s all.’
‘You wouldn’t be getting in the way.’
Dad sipped his pint, thinking. ‘I was a cocky little bugger when I was your age. You’re far more sensible than I was. That’s why you’ve got the big house and the nice car.’
‘Times have changed.’
‘I know, son, but it’s not just that. You’ve worked harder than I ever did, maybe too hard. I reckon we should both have just tried to aim a little closer to the middle.’
‘It’s either the beer or the heat, Dad, but I don’t have a clue what you’re on about.’
‘Probably my age,’ he said, chuckling to himself. ‘Don’t fall into the trap of spending every hour working, that’s all. You need to keep an eye on her, son.’
‘Who?’
‘Samantha
. She might tell you she’s okay, but if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, women are rarely straight with you. When your mother says one thing, I have to listen to how and when she says it to work out what she really means. They play mind-games.’
‘You’ve definitely had too much to drink, Dad.’
‘Take the piss all you like, sunshine,’ he said, looking up from his beer. ‘I’ve been around the block a few times. I know more than you and your sister ever give me credit for. I may act like an old goat, but I know what’s what and like I said, keep an eye on her. Get your priorities straight.’
3
TUESDAY 7 OCTOBER
Steven spent the day pacifying customers and colleagues alike. It seemed the longer this unseasonal heat continued, the shorter people’s tempers became. Almost the entire afternoon was spent dealing with a particularly obnoxious twenty-two year old who couldn’t understand why his loan application had been refused when all his mates had had similar requests agreed in recent weeks. It didn’t matter how simple Steven tried to make it, the kid – and that was what he was, really, just a kid – couldn’t grasp the basic principle of lending: we’re only going to let you borrow money if we think you’re going to be able to pay it back. Christ, it was hard work sometimes. What’s the point in coming to see a financial adviser if you’re not going to listen to their advice? It was all he could do not to put the gormless sod’s head through his computer screen. All that effort and patience expended, and for what? For nothing.
It shouldn’t have, but the fact Sam was out when he got home came as something of a relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, it was just that he needed a chance to switch off and unwind for a little while first. She was at Yvonne’s. He’d forgotten she was going, but she’d left a scribbled note stuck to the fridge door with a magnet.