âIt was definitely you.â Natalie leans in close over the table. âWhy would the police be looking for you?
Youâre not the type to be getting into trouble. And I asked around a bit too. The other girls. Iâm not the only one heâs shown that photo to. Heâs been working through the streets asking.â
Natalie eyes her room-mate. âHey, you okay? Youâve turned a bit pale.â
Jenny sits cross-legged on her narrow bed surrounded by brochures and pamphletsâ¦.
â¦. Come to Canadaâ¦.
â¦. A new life in Australiaâ¦.
â¦. But battered, curled at the corners and well-thumbed, at the top of the heap of brochures is a prospectus for the University.
Jenny rises, staring, pacing the room as she chews at her fist, fighting down the trembling and the nausea.
âHey, Jenny. Donât worry. Dâyou think Iâd drop you in it? I sent him to the other end of town to check out the fancy shops.â
Still, Jenny shakes, her voice quavering. âTheyâre still looking for me. I thought they would have stopped by now.â
She totters and Natalie lurches forward, catching her. âHey, câmon. Sit down. Breathe. Thatâs it. Go on⦠Breatheâ¦. Whatever it isâ¦.â
Jennyâs voice is panicked. âHe might find me, working in the cafe. He could come into the cafe and see me.â
Natalie wraps an arm around her shoulder, frowning. âWhat dâthey want you for Jenny? How bad can it be? They pick me up. Roll me over for a fine. Iâm back out again an hour later. Youâre not the type to have done anythingâ¦.â She meets Jennyâs eyes; Jennyâs terrified eyes. âHey, you really are scared arenât youâ¦.â
âThey mustnât find me. I mustnât let them find me. Theyâll lock me in the dark again.â
âHey, itâs not like that. I mean, itâs no barrel of laughs, but no-one locks you in the dark. âNatalie surveys her stricken room-mate then jabs a finger at her. âStay there. Stay right there.â
She stands, fetches a bottle of wine from the tiny fridge. âI was saving this for if I ever managed to get Carlo in hereâ¦.â She flashes wicked brows. ââ¦. but I reckon you could use it right now.â She pours two glasses, pressing one into Jennyâs hands, then tilts it up to her mouth. âCâmon. Drink some. Itâll calm you down.â
Natalie gets a glass of wine down Jenny, then pours her another. She only sips at her own. âSo how come he said you might be called Conners or Bennett? You got a husband out there?â
Calmer now, Jenny also sips at her glass, but her voice is subdued. âNot now. Not anymore.â
âYou hiding from him? He beat up on you or something? Dope? Booze?â
âNo, nothing like that.â She gulps a mouthful. âHe doesn't like women, not like that anywayâ
Natalie gapes. âNo shit? So, he what? Didn't want to do the dirty with you?â
Jenny flushes, looks away, the shame, the humiliation flooding with the memory. âNo.â
âYouâre telling me you never....â
âNo.â
âNot ever? Your wedding night?â
Jennyâs voice is a whisper. âThatâs when he told me.â
Natalie absorbs this, thinking it through. âSo, you and he, neverâ¦. You never⦠You've never likeâ¦.
done it? At all? You're a virgin?ââ
âYes.â
âYouâre serious? Really?â
âDon't you believe me?â
âActually, I do. But I'm flabbergasted. Can't remember the last time I met a virgin. Theyâre in kinda short supply around here.â
Jenny shrugs. âIt doesnât matter. Itâs past now. I canât let them find me.â
âWhat do you think youâre going to do? Spend your whole life on the move?â
âIf I have to.â
*****
James I sit on a chair on the terrace overlooking the beach, my laptop to one side. The sky is melting into a soft pink and opal evening and a blanket covers my legs against the cooling air.
There is the sound of a car engine and the crunch of gravel. After a couple of minutes, Michael appears. He pulls up a chair. âYou look comfortable. How are you doing?â
âOh, better now just being out of the hospital. Charlotte set me up here.â
âYeah, it's soul food this place isn't it.â He glances around. âWhere is she?â
I told her to go get her head down for an hour. She's been running around after me all day.
âTrying to be a good sub?â His eyes twinkle.
I twinkle back. âI'd say so, yes.â
âI'd enjoy that while it lasts if I were you.â
âYes, I'm sure the facade will crack at some point.â
Michaelâs smile is breaking free. âHow long do you give it?â
I scratch an ear. âOh, a few days, before the strainâs too much. Letâs face it. Sheâs not got a sub bone in her body. But Iâll admit I find it sweet that she wants to try.â
âMmmâ¦.â He pulls a face. âLet's hope it's not too spectacular when the elastic snaps.â
I huff. âI think we have to live with it. There's no point buying apples then complaining you don't have bananas.â
âAin't that the truth.â¦â He scuffs at some sand on the tiles. âWhat do you think might trigger it?â
âShe's going to want to go back to her universityâ¦.â
Michael hisses between his teeth. âSheeshâ¦. I'm not happy about that idea. I'd like to keep her closer to home, all things considered.â
âSo would I. Bear with me. I may be able to do something about it.â Then, glancing down at the laptop.
âI keep pretending to do some work but really I'm just staring at the sea.â
He looks at me longwise. âSomething bothering you?â
I stare up to where thin waves of cloud shimmer copper and mauve around the setting sun. The sea below ripples gold and bronze. âYou never told me I'd died.â
He gives me a sharp look. âWhoâ¦?â
âRichard told meâ¦.â
He nods, sucking his teeth. âAhâ¦â
âWhy didnât you?â
Michael stands, pacing around the terrace. âMmmm, I wasn't sure you would be any better for the knowledge.â He leans on the balustrade, staring out to the horizon. âFancy a drink?â
âWhy not?â
He vanishes into the house, reappearing a minute or so later with a couple of brandies. As I take mine, I realise that I donât really want it, but I sip it for good mannersâ sake. And we sit in companionable silence, watching the sun go down, huge as it kisses the horizon.
After a while Michael says, âEver had sex on the beach?â
I sip the brandy again, trying to divine the meaning, and the point, behind the question. âThe drink or the activity?â
He shrugs. âBoth I suppose.â
âI was never a fan of cocktails, and as for the other, all that sand getting everywhere....â
He muses. âMmmm, I always thought that tooâ¦. Had it on the promenade once though. I had her up against the back wall of the games arcade. I was seventeen and we got caught by a copper and my Dad knocked the living daylights out of me when he found out.â
Smiling despite myself, âWhy? Please donât tell me you deflowered the vicarâs daughter?â
âNo.â He stares at his drink, then slides eyes my way. âIt was mainly because when the copper asked me who I was, I didnât want to say. I gave my Dadâs name instead. So, when the police turned up at the house asking for himâ¦.â
I crack up into gales of helpless laughter. Waving a hand at him, âRemember that story when you have a seventeen-year-old son of your own.â
Michael turns pensive. âThink that'll ever happen?â
âOh, I think so. One boy, one girl, one dark, one blond. Thatâs what she said.â
His head swivels. âWhen was that?â
âWhen the two of you weren't talking to each other properly.â
âAhhhâ¦.â His face falls.
Despite his change in mood, Iâm still chuckling. After a minute he says, âItâs about time we got a good laugh out of you.â
And now, I sober up. âYes, Iâm sorry. I know Iâve been a miserable bastard the last few weeks.â
âYouâve got to take your time. Just take it easyâ¦.â He eyes me. âWhat exactly is bothering you? Itâs more than boredom.â
Oh, Christâ¦.
âWhat if I canât?â
âCanât what?â
âCanâtâ¦. Ah, fuckâ¦.â I canât bring myself to say it.
Michael hesitates, seemingly choosing his words. âYouâve been shot, youâre healing and now youâre worrying about whether you can get it up? Whether you will be able to? Is that it? Or that you need a helping hand right now?â
My good mood evaporating again, depression presses inwards. âMichael, what if I canât? What ifâ¦.
Charlotteâ¦.â
âWhat if what? You think youâd lose her?â He snorts. âYouâre talking rubbish. She worships the ground you walk on. And the reason you were injured in the first place is that you were saving her.â
âI don't want her staying with me because she feels obligatedâ
He jolts back, face tightening. âI've never heard anything so stupid. Youâre only half-healed and your brainâs writing checks your body can't cash yet.â He turns square-on to me, his eyes intense. âShe stays with you James, because she loves you. Always has. Always will. And if you canât recognise that, itâs your head you need to worry about, not your cock.â
Then, his face suddenly sunny again, he punches me on the shoulder. âStop worrying. Thatâs far more likely to give you problems than anything else. The rest of it is just time and rest.â
Heâs right of courseâ¦.
â¦. And I donât want to talk about this anymoreâ¦.
âHow's the work coming on now? Back at the house?â
âPretty well. The electricâs in. Plumbingâs in place. The roof is sound. And Benâs giving me some of his time to help next week clearing that mess of a back garden.â
My voice dry. âThat must be fun.â Michaelâs prickly brother is not my first choice of company. He was unimpressed to learn that there is to be a âlodgerâ in the house with Michael and Charlotte and takes every opportunity to remind me that the âyoung coupleâ should have privacy.
âDonât knock it,â says Michael. âHis help is very welcome. The houseâll be properly habitable fairly soon.â He scratches at his scalp with a sound like sandpaper. âIâve got to say though, that contractor Richard recommended is turning out to be pure gold. He clears the most incredible amount of work for what heâs charging.â
I keep my voice bland. âsâ that right?â
Memo to self: get McGradyâs invoices to me well out of sightâ¦.
Michael continues blithely on, ââ¦. Still, since Richard is happy for us to use this place, youâre a lot better off staying here than up the mountain.â
âCouldnât agree more.â
*****