by West Camel
Anne leaned out from the angle at the corner of the balcony, stretching to get a little extra height – she might just get a glimpse of the peak of Deborah’s roof. The effort made her aware of the pain in her neck and shoulder where Mel had gripped her.
‘I’ll cry for you, Deb,’ she said – maybe to herself, maybe out loud – it did not matter. She would go to Deborah tomorrow, she decided, and she would hold and kiss her – giving no reason.
Chapter 21: Sam
When Sam woke on Sunday, it was the afternoon and the phone was in his bed, warm from his body. He’d called Derek before he’d slept, but it had gone straight to voicemail and he had no words prepared. His fingers had hovered over the keys, trying to construct a text, but he wanted Derek’s voice to speak back to him. And as he imagined how the conversation would run, his eyes had closed.
Now, he got up and stood by the window in the sunlight, sweating a little, with a few words ready. He let the phone ring several times more than usual, grinding his teeth as he looked down at the messy service alley behind the shops.
‘Hello, mate.’ Derek’s voice surprised him and he forgot everything he was going to say. ‘I was hoping you’d call.’ He could hear that Derek was in a car and there was an aggressive male voice very close.
‘You OK?’ Sam managed.
‘Yeah. Well, not really.’ There was a pause. ‘Look, I was a bit hard on you on Friday.’
‘Yeah, you were.’
The hard voice cut in. ‘Come on, Del, is this business?’
‘Look, mate, I really want to sort this out, but I’m with someone right now. I’ll have to call you back.’ Derek sounded sheepish, less confident than Sam knew him.
‘With someone?’
‘No, not like that. Look I’ll have to call you back. As soon as I can. Bye.’
‘Bye.’
Sam stayed looking out of the window for he didn’t know how long.
Derek’s tone had been soft and desperate, but needling doubts kept Sam uncomfortable. His phone became smeared from checking for signal and missed calls. By the time it finally rang, he had convinced himself that Derek had let him down and he had to pull himself out of a sulk to answer it.
Derek was inside now and his voice was loud and light. ‘Everything’s changed, Sam.’
‘What, since Friday?’
‘Yes, since Friday. Since yesterday, actually. I was going to call, but I thought I’d blown it with you. So when you called earlier I couldn’t believe it! I was with someone, though, so I couldn’t say anything.’
Sam found himself smiling and knew Derek was too. ‘What’s changed, then?’
Derek hesitated; Sam crooked his eyebrows at himself in the small mirror on his chest of drawers.
‘I’m going to have to explain the whole thing to you properly. I’m in a fix, Sam, but the important thing is I want to get out of it.’
Sam’s smile fell off his face. He went to the window so he wouldn’t have to look at himself. ‘Sounds complicated.’
‘Yeah, it is. But I’ll work it out. I just…’ Derek sighed and raised his voice – he must be gesturing with his hand, ‘I just want to make sure we’re alright. I don’t want to throw this away.’
Sam looked down at the cobbles of Albury Street and thought of the simplicity of the darkness lit by one sharp torch beam. ‘I don’t want to throw this away either.’
‘We’ve been thinking the same thing, then?’
‘Maybe.’ Sam hoped they were. He had not expected Derek to take the lead like this.
‘Look, let’s meet up this evening and I’ll explain it all.’ Derek was earnest now. ‘I want us to sort it out.’ It was a question too, but he stumbled on without waiting for the answer. ‘And you’re still fucking sexy.’
‘Oh, so that’s what you want, is it?’ Straight away he realised he hadn’t injected a big enough laugh into his voice, because Derek was worried.
‘No, well, yeah, but not just that, you know.’ He was all twisted up, and it brought a smile back to Sam’s lips.
‘Sorry, I know what you mean.’
The next pause was comfortable.
‘Come up here later, then,’ said Derek. ‘We can eat something. Have a chat.’
‘Sounds good.’
When Derek opened the door to his flat, Sam realised that he had never been there in daylight. It was bright and sparsely furnished with pale walls and large windows on all sides. Derek’s eyes were a deeper blue than Sam remembered, his teeth were whiter, his cheeks smoother. Sam wanted to bring his lips to the soft skin on the side of Derek’s neck. Derek wore a clean striped shirt, open at the collar; the hollow between his clavicles was soft – a place to rest a thumb.
They looked at each other in silence, standing a short distance apart.
‘You look great,’ Derek said, his eyebrows rising hopefully.
‘Thanks, you too.’ Sam was sweating. He had changed, showered, shaved and changed again – as if it were a first date. He ran a hand through his hair and caught the sickly sweet smell of his gel. ‘Fuck this,’ he said and stepped into Derek. After the most minute hesitation they kissed, then clinched. For a moment, it was a fight, their lips locked together and their chests pressed close. But they had to breathe, and were in the bedroom in a few steps.
Afterwards, Derek rose and opened the door to a balcony that Sam had not realised was there. Sam rose too and joined Derek outside. The late-spring day had been as hot as summer, but now there was a slight breeze, carefully drying their sweat.
‘I didn’t know you were right on the river. It’s an amazing view.’ The water seemed blue, and the west-facing façades of the Canary Wharf towers glowed gold, windows flashing here and there. They leaned their bodies against each other. ‘How did you get this flat? Must have cost you a lot.’
‘Lucky, I suppose. Right place, right time.’ Derek’s hand drifted over Sam’s back and buttocks, prickling his skin. This is it, Sam thought, and didn’t allow himself to travel any further than that.
They remained on the balcony for the rest of the evening, wearing bathrobes, eating and watching the river traffic pass by. It was not until it was dark that Sam finally said, ‘So, here we are.’ He knew the words would break the spell of the past few sunlit hours, but, with his ankles resting on Derek’s knees and Derek’s warm hand cupped perfectly over his foot, it seemed they were strong enough to take the weight. ‘You said everything’s changed?’
Derek stared out over the river, nodding slowly. Sam remained silent, watching him work out his words.
At last Derek took a deep breath in. ‘Yesterday, I was at a christening party. Everyone was there from around here – people I’ve known for years. All sorts, good and bad. And, you know what? Even after our row on Friday, I wanted you to be there with me. I couldn’t get it out of my head: I should’ve arrived with you, I should’ve introduced you to people, and shown them we were together. I’d have been like: “What are you going to do about it? He’s my bloke and he’s fucking gorgeous.”’ Derek flashed a smile at Sam.
‘And then I saw Lia and Nigel.’
Sam twitched, but Derek held him still.
‘Everyone was fussing over her because she’s pregnant. And I just thought that I could understand how happy she was. She’s always wanted a baby and now she’s getting one. Nigel had a great stupid grin on his face. I haven’t stopped thinking he’s a wanker – but they were happy, and it didn’t matter anymore what he said about me.’ He looked at Sam without smiling now; he was serious, a little tired. ‘And all that just made me think even more about you. It made me think that we could be happy like that. I mean, we can’t have a kid, obviously.
‘But that’s not the important thing. It made me think I should’ve pulled myself together and forgotten about Nigel, like you were telling me to. So I got a bit drunk, and I was telling people I’d made a stupid mistake and nobody could really work out what I was talking about.’
Sam shuffled in his chair, tryi
ng to get even closer to Derek, grabbing the back of his neck, his fingers fitting into the soft, hairy folds of skin. He managed to pull his head towards him and their lips just met. ‘But here we are,’ said Sam.
Derek nodded. ‘Here we are.’ Then he tipped his chin. ‘So what about you? What made you come back?’
It was night now. The Canary Wharf towers wore bright cloaks and, among them, other lights moved – little creatures, signalling to Sam in an intricate, confusing language. How should he tell Derek what he needed to say?
‘This is going to sound like a fairy tale or something,’ he said at last. He knew Derek was looking at him, but it was too dark for his features to be clear. ‘I met this old woman.’
‘Who lived in a shoe?’ Derek tickled the soles of Sam’s feet.
‘Don’t laugh, it’s almost like that.’
‘Does she have so many children, she doesn’t know what to do?’
‘That’s the thing – she’s got no one, no one at all.’ Sam had a corner of what he wanted to say in his grasp; was this where to start? How could it all be told? And then he saw a sail – two sails. They weren’t on the river below, but Sam saw them, scudding along; little vessels, racing each other. ‘When I was twelve or thirteen, I learned to sail.’
Derek sat back, a hand still resting on Sam’s leg.
‘My mum and dad didn’t like the idea; they thought it was dangerous and expensive. They used to say, “What’s the point of sailing around the reservoir – you don’t get anywhere, do you?” But I was really good at it – the instructor said I was a natural. And I enjoyed it too; it was a thrill, going really fast, taking part in races and all that.
‘Anyway, after I’d done it for a couple of years, there was an accident. It was one of the only races my dad ever came to watch.
‘There were two of us in my boat – me and a girl my age. We hit another dinghy going round a buoy and we capsized. I was fine; but my mate didn’t come up out of the water. I was hanging on to the boat, shouting for her.
‘There was a motor launch near by and a lifeguard dived in to get her. I remember thinking, he’ll bring her up; she’ll be fine.
‘But when he came up he was shouting, “Right the boat, right the boat!” So I did what we’d practised: stood on the hull, pulling the mainsheet, one foot on the centreboard. Only the boat felt much heavier than usual. I managed to right it though and I fell back in the water. But when I surfaced again I saw my mate, all tangled up in the sail and the ropes. The lifeguard was trying to untwist everything to get her out, but she was already blue.’
Sam stopped. The memory was shockingly fresh. The water had been cold but it had taken a while for his skin to become wet. His waterproofs had squeaked against the upside-down hull. Silver-green bubbles had rushed as trapped air escaped from under the boat. He could see them still, blooming on the surface.
‘Sam, that’s horrible.’ Derek’s voice and touch were warm. Sam frowned at him, for a moment forgetting where he was and why he was telling this story. ‘What happened? Was she dead?’
Sam had to take a long breath. ‘No. But her lungs were full of water, and it took ages to untie her. By the time they got her to hospital she was brain dead.’
‘Fuck.’
Derek’s hand tightened over Sam’s ankle and, for a moment, a panic clutched at Sam’s guts – he couldn’t remember her name. What if Derek asked him? But as quickly as he had forgotten it, it came back to him: a couple of syllables.
‘There was an inquest. But no one was found responsible; it was “a tragic accident”, like they always say. And I honestly don’t feel guilty about it. I know there was nothing I did wrong.’
‘Of course not.’
‘I thought about her every day for years after. She was dead, but she wasn’t dead, you know?’
Derek’s dark head nodded. A breeze had picked up, making it chilly – reminding them it was still spring. The hairs stood up on Sam’s legs and arms. He wanted to stay out here, though; he didn’t want to go back inside, or go home.
‘It was after that that all the problems started.’
‘What like?’
‘Nothing serious – just truanting, smoking, never did my homework – little stuff. But it started to add up. My mum and dad didn’t know how to handle it. In the end, they took me out of school. I think they were scared of me in a way; because of what had happened. They just seemed to want me at home, doing nothing. I couldn’t put up with that for long, so I started going out, not telling them where. I just spent my whole time cruising and cottaging, meeting blokes online – looking for the next thrill. I’ve no idea what they thought I was up to.
‘Eventually, I came to London; I don’t really know what I was thinking of doing here. Just more of the same, I suppose. But it didn’t work out like that.’ He grabbed Derek’s hand without thinking and squeezed the fingers together into a bundle. ‘You were just another quick fuck I met in an alley, you know.’
Derek stirred in his chair, pulling his hand away, but Sam took hold of it again. ‘I was really going to cut you off on Friday. I never get caught up with anyone like this – I was all about getting a new bloke every time. But then there was Deborah.’
‘Who?’ Even in silhouette, Sam could see Derek’s pout.
‘The old woman I met.’
‘I’m lost now, mate.’ But Derek left his hand in Sam’s; Sam would have to lead him through this.
‘The night I first met you I was coming home from her house. She lives at the end of that alley by the creek.’
‘So that’s what you were doing down there?’
‘She literally lives on the creek – no road to it or anything. You have to climb over the parapet at the end of that alley.’ Sam felt his voice accelerating. ‘She’s really odd; eccentric I suppose you’d call it. She doesn’t have any electricity or gas or anything, doesn’t see anyone; just sits and does needlework most of the time, I think.’
‘Sam, this is nuts!’ Derek interrupted.
It was; but it was out now, and for a sharp little second, Sam thought he might have made it up.
‘I know. But, well, she’s interesting. There’s something about her. She nearly got run down in the street a few weeks ago – I pulled her out of the way of a van. She’s sort of hung on to me ever since. She’s weird, but harmless. She just tells stories all the time – and her house, you’ve got to see it, it’s something else.’
He paused for breath. He had told Derek about the sailing accident, and now he had told him about Deborah. It was easy to tell stories that could be true. But he hesitated before going any further, before going into the tunnel.
‘Until I met you I didn’t know anyone here. She was someone to talk to, I suppose. But then I started to think she was up to something.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well once I saw her going into the back of this house in Albury Street. And then last night I was home late, and she was waiting for me opposite the bus stop. It was gone three in the morning. And a car came out of nowhere and she pulled me out of the way. Returning the favour I guess. Anyway, she took me down Albury Street. And, well…’ he placed his fingertips over his mouth, ‘we went into one of the houses.’
‘She was doing the place over? Old bird like that? That’s Deptford for you.’ Derek snorted.
‘No, that’s not it. She had a key. We went into the basement and into a kind of cellar.’ Sam paused, then rushed it out: ‘Where there’s a door into a tunnel.’
Derek almost threw Sam’s hand away. ‘Oh, come on, now you’re taking the piss.’
Sam felt his heart quicken. ‘Honestly. There’s a doorway and a tunnel – we went in. It goes on forever; she’s down there all the time.’
‘What for?’
Sam had no instant answer. But he knew he couldn’t explain why he was sitting here without telling Derek what had happened. ‘She said she was down there during the war. She showed me where there was an entrance to an air-raid shelter. Bu
t the main thing is she found a load of tapestries down there.’
‘Tapestries? What, bits of cloth?’
‘Yes. There was a piece still stuck in the mud. She got me to pull it out.’
‘You couldn’t make it up, could you? Where do I meet this woman? She sounds nuts.’
‘But that’s just it.’ Sam shuffled to the edge of his chair. He had it now, spread out in front of him. ‘I was down there with her, in the pitch black, just one torch, with her saying “This is where the bomb hit … This is where I found the tapestries” – and I thought, this could be me in however many years.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘Not literally. But I could see myself ending up alone, cut off from everyone – making stuff up.’ He looked into the clear black space above the river. ‘I won’t even start to tell you some of her stories.’
Derek sighed. ‘You’re a young bloke. You can’t be thinking about what you’re going to be like when you’re an old man.’
‘I know, but it was like a warning: on Friday, you were trying to show me you wanted to make us work, and I was putting up walls.’
Derek got out of his chair, squatted down in front of Sam, so his broad, open face was fully lit, and began to coil their hands and arms together.
‘You should see her, Derek, it’s so sad. I think it’s what happens when someone is really and truly alone.’
‘But you’re not alone, mate.’ Derek’s breath puffed into his face.
‘When I was down there in the dark, it just seemed so simple: I had to find you and work it out. And well … here we are.’ But then he used a little pressure to push Derek back, so they could look at each other properly; he knew there was still something more, something Derek was yet to say. ‘It’s not as simple as I thought now, though, is it?’
Derek put his elbows on Sam’s knees and looked down at the floor before speaking. ‘No, it’s not.’ He stood up, his arms running through Sam’s hands, so at last they were just linked by their crooked fingers. ‘There’s a problem.’