"You've got pictures of your kids in there Pen,… maybe David too. Maybe of a picnic you had last year some time. Stuff you've forgotten about. Birthday parties,… Christmas day! Summer holidays. If you flicked through - you'd begin remembering some of the good stuff."
"No. It's a blank card. I deleted everything. Have you seen how small those cards are these days? I thought I could keep it in a locket around my neck - or round my waist, tuck the locket in my pants,… no one would know - David hasn't the slightest interest what I keep in my pants any more."
"Pen, stop!"
"Fuck me, Phil!"
He rose to leave but she caught his hand. "Take your clothes off for me, and let me fuck you,… no one will know!"
"Penny, you're being a very naughty girl now!"
She looked at him in disbelief, then laughed, and as she laughed the camera grew bored with the two of them and shut down in protest, pulling in its erection with a tired little whine. "I can't believe you just said that."
"There are a few things you've said just now that I can't believe either. Listen, we don't need to play this their way. We don't need to give them evidence of infidelity. We can just go home on Sunday night and tell them we've had enough, that we're walking out, starting again - and not necessarily with each other."
She pressed his hand. "Oh but that would make sense though wouldn't it, if we did walk out, I mean if we did make a fresh start together? I mean it would be cheaper to share a place, than to live separately. We could be together, as friends."
This was nothing that Phil had not fantasised about in the darker moments of his marriage this past year. "I don't want us to end up like,… me and Sally, or you and David. We've said all this before. Why is it any different now?"
"But we wouldn't be like that - and it's always been different between us."
"How can you know? Pretty soon you'd look at me and see a wrinkled old man and wonder what the hell you'd done."
"No,… we'd always be friends first. Lovers second. We'd be house-mates."
Phil couldn't believe what he was hearing and she made it all sound so plausible, but this was Penny: Penny who was not interested in an affair, Penny who wanted to repair her marriage. Was it the freedom? Was it the distance she'd put between her and her old life that had brought all this to the surface? He felt the same - it was hard to imagine Sally now, hard to imagine Marty and Ellie, hard even to imagine their voices, and he didn't care. He didn't miss them at all because he was here in this private room with this lovely, friendly woman who seemed to know him so well.
And her dressing gown was slipping open.
"No," he said. "There may come a time, one day. When you and I are together in another room, like this. But I promise you, Pen - we shall never fuck,… not for the madness of it, or from a desire to wipe out a painful past. If we ever undress for each other, it will be to make love."
Dinner with Blakedon turned out to be a welcome distraction for Phil. He had never spoken so intensely to any woman before, never declared himself so openly. His words had made a deep impression on Penny. He could see his words in her eyes and so could Doctor Lin, who noted early on Penny's quiet air and faraway look - not so pugnacious as last night.
Blakedon had dressed quite smartly in a three piece suit, which puzzled Phil because it would have been the last thing he'd think to pack for a weekend Tai Chi retreat. He seemed genuinely interested in Doctor Lin and asked searching questions about the theory of traditional Chinese medicine. And apart from the fact that the man was lying through his teeth, claiming to be a PR consultant called Bert Blake and not an hilariously incompetent PI called Herbert Blakedon, Phil could almost perceive of circumstances where he might actually have liked the man.
Doctor Lin found the situation very stimulating - the accused lovers at the same table as their potential nemesis. But who's side was she on? Well, Phil's of course. He'd impressed her that morning - she'd seen something of the energy growing in him and had been fairly sure he could dent the Dragon Man's confidence, but to knock him over had been something of a bonus. It usually took students many years to develop to such a level. All right, it seemed Master Evans was a poseur and a fake, but he was still a big man!
"So, Bert, are you married?" asked Phil.
Blakedon took a moment, then gave a sad little smile. "I'm afraid my wife passed away some time ago. I am seeing someone, but one's never certain how to proceed in these matters."
"Ah,.."
Penny who'd been very quiet thus far, spoke up. "I'm very sorry. Have you children?"
"Yes. Both have left home now - a boy and a girl. I do miss them."
Penny was wondering if she would miss her own children when the time came. Of course she would, wouldn't she? How could a mother not miss her own children? They were her blood and bone. It would be like losing an arm or a leg. "I'm so sorry," she said again. And then: "Actually, I think I'll go up. It's been a long day - and another early start tomorrow. Mr Blakedon, I wonder if we could have a moment in the lounge."
"Erm,… it's Blake. But of course."
"Thank you, Mr Blakedon."
Phil glanced in Penny's direction, wondering what she was up to, but she deliberately avoided making eye contact with him. Then she rose and Blakedon followed her out.
Doctor Lin burned with curiosity, and was determined that she should spend more time with Penny and Phil; their company was never dull. "She called him Blakedon," she said.
"I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means."
Had Penny concealed other cameras in her room? Had she snapped them together on the bed perhaps, holding hands? Was that sufficient grounds for divorce? Was she now offering the evidence to Blakedon? He felt strange - he should have felt sick - he should have panicked and jumped up to stop her, but he didn't want to. It would be like stepping out onto an avalanche, he thought, but he was apparently willing to take the risk.
Doctor Lin retired, and Phil waited in the bar for a while to see if Penny was in a mood for explanations. He could see her and Blakedon sitting in a pair of Chesterfields by the reception desk. Penny appeared to be doing all the talking while Blakedon nodded occasionally - his face set and stony. Whatever it was, was not good.
It was too expensive in the hotel to get drunk, so he found himself sipping timidly at a double malt, trying to make it last, afraid even of the fumes evaporating and spiriting away the contents of his glass. Penny finally joined him just as he was about to leave.
"So, buy me a drink and I'll tell you what I've done."
She'd told Blakedon that she and Phil knew he was a private detective, that he'd been following the pair of them all over Middleton, that they didn't know who'd hired him and would he tell her? Blakedon, had mumbled something about professional confidence, so Penny had explained that if she or Phil ever saw him again, they would have the police on him, and she'd find out who'd hired him that way. "He'll have to stop now," she explained. "And he'll have to tell whoever it is that we're onto them. That will either make things worse, or it'll all just go away. So, what do you think?"
He took a deep breath and gulped down the last of his whiskey. "I think it's unlikely Blakedon will be at the retreat in the morning. It's also unlikely I will be either. I came here to relax - to go really deep into this Tai Chi business and instead we've ended up running headlong into even more manure, and none of it's our fault."
"I know - but maybe we can put it behind us now - tomorrow will be better without him hanging about all the time. We'll get into it more tomorrow."
"Maybe."
"Please don't go home yet. See it through."
That she wanted him to stay was sufficient to persuade him and the gentle urging he saw in her face warmed him. She wanted him - wanted him to stay. She reached out and quickly smoothed the back of his hand as it lay on the bar. "It's push hands tomorrow," she said.
He brightened: "Well, why didn't you say so earlier?" He smiled, and as he smiled there was a flash as Penny sn
apped him.
"I'm sorry, lover," she said, unhooking the locket from around her neck. "But I want you inside my knickers tonight - metaphorically speaking."
Phil shook his head and slid down from the stool. "You're a very naughty girl, Pen. And we're going to get burned."
"You keep saying that - and I live in hope, but I think you're all talk. And Phil?"
"Hmn?"
"Good night."
They leaned together quite naturally, and brushed cheeks. Phil felt her lipstick smear as she kissed him lightly. "Good night, Pen. By the way, you know, you'll never get that chain around your waist."
He retired feeling punch-drunk. It had been a spectacularly long day and he found it difficult to get his thoughts around any of it now - from his unexpected flooring of the Dragon Man, to Penny's almost deranged teenage antics that evening - it all seemed so unlikely to him that he climbed into bed secure in the knowledge that none of it had been real and he could safely disregard it. Even the notion of his digitised self residing on a memory card in a locket around Penny's waist failed to either worry or arouse him. He was confident she wouldn't go through with it, that she was simply teasing him. In the short time she'd been here she'd lost twenty years of married life, twenty years of growing up and he felt he had glimpsed the girl she'd once been - energetic, impulsive, not always rational, and a little saucy in a lovely playful sort of way. Come Monday she'd be back at work all zipped up like a proper adult again, and with an emotional hangover that would take some guts to get through.
Meanwhile Penny sat on the edge of the bath and experimented with the locket. Phil had been right - the damned thing wouldn't go around her waist - it was about a foot too short. It wasn't something she wore much - too old fashioned nowadays, and there was always the risk that, having something like that around your neck, someone nosy parker would ask to see inside of it - to see what secrets she carried there - a picture of her husband, or her adorable children, perhaps? Or was it a memory card containing the single photo of a man who was not her lover, probably never would be, but who had spoken directly to her heart as no other man ever had?
It had to be around her waist - she was quite obsessive now, in a way that only a bottle of wine could achieve. But even if she'd found a chain big enough, what was to stop it from simply wriggling down and winding up scrunched up in the gusset of her trousers, or worse - round her ankles when she wore a skirt? She found several slender pieces of leather cord at the bottom of her handbag - the remains of another necklace she'd once been fond of, and she managed to tie them together to form a loop that sat snugly around her waist. This fitted quite nicely, drawing up tight of its own accord and not to wanting to slip over her hips. The locket also fell against her mound in a way that suddenly excited her. She was only feeling like this, she told herself, because she was away from home, bathed in the seductive ambience of an hotel. In the morning things would be very different. Tomorrow night she'd be back in Middleton, picking up the boys' socks and underpants from their bedroom floors - except Angela would already have been there, ordering and regimenting - perhaps even cleaning those stubborn little corners of the skirting boards in the kitchen that she could never be bothered with. She could hear her tut-tutting, scrubbing at the layers of Penny's neglect, revealing the ingrained evidence of her total inadequacy as a mother and a wife.
Penny closed her eyes and forced the thought to depart, to take with it also the sinking feeling and she slid naked into bed - except for the chord around her waist. Even sleeping nude was a rare pleasure and the smooth, pressed sheets felt exquisite against her skin - it would have freaked David out, she thought, to have her naked in bed - something unspeakably immoral, and possibly unhygienic. The locket snuggled against her inner thigh, tempting her hand to come follow, and to reacquaint herself with other things that she was in the habit of neglecting. She felt her arousal swelling quickly, and she turned gratefully onto her back, legs sliding apart, the locket descending like an eager ferret.
"Naughty boy, Phil!" she thought, then gave herself over to half an hour of quivering joy, while she surfed her memory, and lit up the corridors of a forgotten hunger. When she came, she explored more slowly the moist well of her self before sliding the locket home, as she had known she would. And then she slept soundly, secure in the knowledge that in a small way at least - she had this man, this wonderful man, exactly where she wanted him - and no one would ever know - not even him.
He was not Gabriel. And he had told her he could never fuck her - that he could only ever make love to her, make love on their terms, without ever having to look over their shoulders. It was all impossible of course, and it would never happen, but it was something pure and noble and it made it all the harder to stop herself from falling in love with him.
Chapter 27
Phil returned to Middleton on Sunday night with a reluctance he'd not felt since those long summer school-holidays and having to face the agony of the first Monday back. Except, this was home he was returning to. After negotiating entry via the fiasco of the keys, he felt the silent resentment in Sally's every look. She didn't mention it - didn't even bother to enquire after his weekend.
"Kids been all right?" he ventured.
"Fine," - which he interpreted as: "A fat lot you care!"
He didn't pursue it. He sometimes got this treatment after a walk over the moors, but this was worse, he thought - much worse - something must have happened - some spat with Marty perhaps, and the only thing to do was ignore it until she chose to bring it up herself. He ran a bath and soaked for a while, then retired to the cool of the conservatory, where she would find him if she wanted him. Ellie was watching Garfield in her room, while Marty was kicking the virtual shit out of an innocent passer by on his Gamestation. All of this was familiar to him but the weekend had made him see it all in a new light.
They'd finished off their time at the retreat with rather a long meditation. There'd been nothing airy fairy about it - the brain uses a vast amount of energy, the Doc had explained, so if you could find a way of shutting it down for a bit, it gave the rest of your body a breather too, plus the stillness brought its own benefits. It had taken him a while - maybe an hour but eventually, he'd managed to slip into an unusual state of mind that he imagined must have come somewhere near to what they were aiming at - and Penny, off to one side seemed to have managed it as well, for how else could anyone sit so still and for so long without fidgeting?
She'd seemed distant though, spending most of the day close to him, smiling but quiet somehow, and he could only surmise that she was embarrassed by the things she'd said, or was anxious about what Blakedon would do. And then they'd parted company - almost like strangers. She'd not even said goodbye when he'd gone to her - just placed a friendly hand upon his arm and patted it, then turned her back and strode off to her Corsa.
Doc Lin had watched her go, too. "Think Penny enjoyed it?"
"I'm sure she did."
"Looks troubled, Philip - do you think?"
"She seems distant. It's all that business with Blakedon, yesterday."
He wondered how it would work out - if Penny would be able to tell by their awkward looks and glances, who had hired him - or if she would ignore the whole thing in the hope that it would simply go away. He wished it would, for any fallout on Penny would risk dragging him into it as well, and he could protest all he liked to Sally but if the word private detective and affair was mentioned, he was in no doubt that plenty of mud would be sticking to him - and that it would be Sally, perhaps gleefully, smearing him with it.
"Are you and Mum ever going to get divorced, Dad?"
"Eh?"
Marty had crept into the conservatory and was now sitting across from Phil, watching him.
"Divorced? What makes you think that?"
Marty shrugged. "Dunno. Only it happens, dunnit? Sometimes - when it's not working."
"Sure,… but not to me and your mother. We're fine." Was he sensitive to the vibes between them
? Was he growing anxious? Phil hastened to reassure him, and was perhaps guilty of overdoing it. "You've no need to worry on that score. We'd never do that to you."
"Do what?"
"Well, split up and have you torn between us. What's brought this up, Marty?"
Marty shrugged again. "I was just talking to Felix."
"Your mate at school?"
"Felix's parents split last year."
"They did? I'm sorry to hear that - sorry for Felix too, poor lad. Is he okay?"
"He's fine - says its great."
"I'm sure he doesn't mean that."
"So there's no chance of you and mum splitting up then?"
"I hope not."
"But before you said you never would."
"Well, okay, we never will - but Marty what's going on?"
Marty looked a little crestfallen. Was Phil reading that right?
"Felix's dad bought him a Gamestation 3."
Phil sensed something, like he was about to be conned out of something and the mention of a Gamestation 3 had him on high alert. "Well, Felix's dad must earn a lot more than I do then," he replied, cautiously.
"It's 'cos his parents split. They feel guilty you see? So he's only to ask for stuff like that and he gets it now."
"So,.. let me see if I've got this right: You were wondering, that if your Mum and I were going to split up, we'd hurry and get on with it, so you could sting us for a new Gamestation?"
Marty cracked a smile, but Phil stared at him, barely able to comprehend where his son was coming from. Marty might have been smiling, but he was only half joking.
"That's a bit mercenary, isn't it?" Phil was horrified, but also intrigued by his son's attitude. There were warring parents all over the world, thinking they should stick together at all costs for the sake of their children, when actually their children might possibly see it as a negotiating advantage in their mission to acquire even more stuff.
"Chill out Dad. I didn't mean it!"
Push Hands Page 19