Blood Ties (37 page)

I wrote and told Baxter about our life in London and at first he didn’t reply. I was worried that he had cut me off, holding me responsible for Patrick’s death, which in a way I was. But I persevered and eventually his letters filtered back, short at first but then he revealed more about his life and how he had hired two assistants to help him in the shop. Baxter was strong. He’d saved my life even though I’d shattered his.

 

We arrive home and my skin prickles with evaporating sweat. The house is so much cooler than the inside of my car. Robert’s obviously in a bad mood about something and I’m going to snap him out of it. I blow him a kiss but he doesn’t see so I run upstairs, leaving a trail of my clothes across the bedroom floor. I step into the shower and let the water flow between my breasts. I feel wicked.

When Robert doesn’t take the bait I know I’m going to have to be devious. It must be a very bad mood. ‘Robert, help! Come quickly!’ I scream as if there’s a burglar in the house and before I know it, Robert’s outside the shower cubicle panting like a beast.

‘What is it?’

‘In here. Open the door.’ He does and instantly he’s doused with water. I’m all lathered up and I can see he can’t believe his eyes. ‘Take your clothes off and get in. You’re disgusting. I have to wash you.’ I blow him another kiss. I know he wants me.

When he just stands there gawping, I reach out and pull him in. He wasn’t ready for that and staggers into the cubicle fully clothed. I’m laughing my head off, not sure if the water on my face is from the shower or tears. Robert looks hilarious. ‘Told you I’d get you clean.’ I giggle. I push my soapy body against him. I don’t care if his clothes are a mess. ‘Take your shirt off and let me wash your back.’ He does as he’s told but reluctantly. ‘Now, now. Don’t get stroppy. If you’re going to be a dirty boy then you have to face the consequences.’ His eyes, creased to slits, dance all over me. I know he wants it.

‘There’s something we need to talk about,’ he says, leaning on the tiles. I’m pinned between his arms. ‘It’s serious.’

For the first time ever, I wonder if he knows.

 

Ruby was in the shop next door playing the piano. She banged out an angry melody, something she’d composed herself, and from that I knew she’d had a bad day at school. The shop had been quiet all day, the rain not having let up since first thing. I hadn’t bothered with the outside displays that morning because the petals would have been washed away.

Apart from the ‘Open’ sign on the door, I might as well have been closed. The owner of the shop rarely stopped by these days. He trusted me completely to manage the stock and the accounts, somehow knowing I wasn’t going to rip him off, knowing I needed to keep my job.

The autonomy gave me confidence and I began to dress differently and had my hair highlighted and cropped into a flattering, jaw-length cut. I even hoped that one day I might meet a man. I didn’t know what it was like to have someone to love me, not pay me. The thought of allowing a touch of my body without first agreeing a price confused my understanding of intimacy.

I was adding up the week’s takings. The bell jangled and I looked up, pushing my reading glasses onto the top of my head. I didn’t really need glasses and had bought a weak pair from the chemist. I liked the tortoiseshell frames. They made me look purposeful, as if I had a life. The man stopped in the doorway, politely wiping his feet over and over again. It didn’t matter. I mopped the floor every night. He folded up his umbrella and stood it against the wall. I thought: you’ll forget that.

‘Hello,’ he said and smiled. He walked around the shop and I went back to my calculator. Once or twice I looked up, a habit I have when customers are in the shop. He didn’t notice.

‘Can I help?’ My question seemed to fluster him and, after staring blankly at me for a couple of seconds, he plucked a bunch of roses from a container and put them on the counter.

‘Thanks,’ he said while I wrapped them. He leaned on the counter with his left hand and I noticed there was no ring. He had nice hands.

‘Eight ninety-nine then, please.’ When I studied his face, I could see he was tired. His dark hair was mussed from the wind and rain and his eyes looked as if the soul had been sucked from them. He smiled and handed me his credit card. I swiped it through the machine and after a quick look at the signature strip I handed it back.

‘Thank you, Mr Knight. Check and sign, please.’ He held the pen and paused.

‘I can hear music.’ He tilted his head towards the partition wall.

‘My daughter. She plays the piano in the shop next door until it’s time to go home.’

‘She’s very good,’ he commented. ‘You must be proud parents.’

‘Parent,’ I corrected. ‘Just me.’ I wanted him to know, in case.

‘Well, thanks.’ And he walked out of the shop into the rain.

What can I do but carry on? He has me pinned to the wall, hot water raining down on us and he wants to talk about something serious. I don’t. ‘Talk dirty,’ I order and smother him with shower gel. ‘And don’t even
think
of being boring right now. Anything serious will have to wait.’ I rinse him with the shower rose and run my tongue up his chest.

Strangely, Robert flinches and thwacks his elbow against the glass. I take the opportunity to kiss it better. I will kiss anything for him. I loosen the belt on his trousers and drop to my knees, sliding the wet cloth to his ankles. ‘While I’m down here . . .’ and finally Robert’s body responds to me.

Suddenly, he has his hands under my armpits and roughly pulls me upright. Our faces are close. ‘How many times do you think we’ve made love?’ he asks. I have no idea why.

‘Let me see . . .’ I hold up my fingers one by one and then take hold of Robert’s and do the same. I crouch in the small space again and continue counting on his toes. ‘Two or three hundred?’ I drag my mouth over his wet legs but before I know it, he has me standing again. ‘Hey . . .’ He’s hurt my shoulder.

‘So what do you reckon I owe you then, considering it’s all been on account?’ He turns off the shower and hoists up his wet trousers. Robert stares at me and I don’t move. There’s heaviness in the cubicle and it’s more than the steam. ‘Time to settle my bill, I think.’ He shoves into me, jamming me against the tiles and the shower control pokes into my back. He grabs my wrists and pulls them above my head roughly.

I’m scared and want to get dry. I block it all out. All of it. Nothing happened. I’m OK. I’m all right.

‘How much do I owe you for all the sex? Tell me what you charge.’

I screw up my eyes and turn my head away from him.

‘Tell me!’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Rob. Stop this. You’re scaring me.’ I open my eyes to slits and see the veins on his neck. ‘Let me get a towel. I’m freezing.’

Like a sigh held in for too long, Robert releases me and I slide past him into the bathroom. I grab my robe and wrap it around me. I’m not going to hear what he said. I’m not going to hear.

‘How much?’ He’s blocking the doorway to the bedroom.

‘Robert, what happened last night? You’re acting so strange.’ My voice quivers. It’s too high. Don’t panic. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

‘I didn’t go to a conference. I went to Brighton.’

‘Brighton?’ I barely say the word. He doesn’t know. He
can’t
know. The sun is on my back, streaming through the frosted window. It doesn’t feel warm.

‘I went to see Baxter King.’

‘Is he a lawyer? A client?’ My voice drops back to its normal level. I walk up to Robert, trying my best to appear unfazed, and slip under his arm into the bedroom. ‘I’ve not heard you mention him before.’ Quick as a fox, I grab some clothes. I pull on shorts and a top and wrap my hair in a towel. I don’t care if it’s wet. I just need to get out. I smear cream over my face and a kiss of mascara. It will do. I haven’t time to bother with foundation or put concealer on the annoying mole on my cheek. I smile at Robert’s reflection. Best to appear casual.

‘So you’re telling me that you’ve never heard of anyone called Baxter King?’

‘Correct.’ I add a bit of lipgloss. He knows I always wear it.

‘And am I right in thinking then that you’ve never lived in Brighton?’

‘Absolutely. Never even been there.’ I put on my watch and curse the awkward strap. I ignore my thumping heart.

‘So if I said to you that I’ve heard otherwise, that you do know Baxter King and you did live in Brighton for eight years, what would you say?’

He’s right behind me now, glowering at my image. ‘I’d say you’d heard wrong.’ I don’t blink, breathe or move. I stare back at him, knowing I’ve faced worse.

‘And if I asked you another question, one that could change everything between us forever, do you swear that you’ll answer me truthfully?’

‘Of course but—’

‘Did you once earn a living by having sex for money?’

Even though my entire world has come crashing down, even though I can see Ruby and me fleeing and running away and starting all over again, I know I can’t afford to hesitate. I stand up and face Robert.
He can’t do this to us
. Why couldn’t he have left everything alone? Tears collect in my eyes and I don’t have to feign the shock that rushes through me. Suddenly there’s a loud noise. Someone is in the house. There are voices. It’s Ruby. She’s playing the piano.

Taking a chance, I run out of the room, calling my daughter’s name.

 

I knew he’d forget his umbrella. It took him two hours to realise. I’d had a few customers since him but not many. The doorbell jangled and there he was again although not so wet because the rain had finally let up.

‘I forgot my umbrella.’ He was wiping his feet again.

‘I know.’ I reached down behind the counter and retrieved it. I’d curled it up neatly with the strap.

‘Actually,’ he said. ‘I want some more flowers.’

‘Wow,’ I said back and I passed his umbrella across the counter. ‘OK.’ We smiled at each other and I shuffled some bills around. He went to look in all the different buckets.

‘What do you recommend?’ He was half hidden behind my new display of lilies. I stepped out from behind the counter. He was taller than me.

‘What’s the occasion?’ My hands were on my hips.

‘What are your favourites?’

I didn’t have to think. ‘Just freesias. It’s their scent.’ I pointed at the bucket containing the out-of-season blooms. I didn’t have many left but he scooped them all out. They dripped on the floor. I went and wrapped them and told him the price. This time he paid cash and held the bunch against his coat.

‘For you,’ he said and passed them back.

‘Me?’ I took them. My hands shook. This was it.

‘Dinner?’

And it was.

 

Ruby has brought a boy home. Too bad she’s never going to get the chance to see him again. He looks interesting. She’s playing her new song to him and he stands, enraptured, leaning against the piano. I make them pizza and drinks, to get them out of my way, and Robert slams his way out of the house. I wonder if it’s the last time I will ever see him. I swallow it all down, everything that’s rising up my throat. That shell is beginning to coat my body again. It’s thickening all around me just when, over the last few months, it had finally melted away.

When Ruby and her friend Art go to her room to study, I gather up a bunch of her sheet music and a handful of the CDs she recorded with Robert. I know she couldn’t bear to leave those behind. Upstairs, I pull two large holdalls out of the cupboard on the landing, quietly so Ruby doesn’t hear, and dump them on my bed. I stop still and think that it won’t be my bed any more; the quilt set I chose, the matching lampshades and the fur rug for Robert to step onto in the morning. I fight it all back down.

I’m not seeing straight as I stuff clothes into one of the bags. Each time I run away, I manage to rescue more of my existence. Perhaps one day I’ll hire a removals van.

In the bathroom, I scoop up my toiletries and I pick out some make-up from my dressing table along with my entire jewellery box. Some of it’s valuable and could be sold. The wardrobe’s a mess. Clothes have fallen to the floor but I don’t care. I take the stairs to the top floor and get the key to my cash box. I remove the box from the secret compartment in my desk and, back in the bedroom, I jam both key and box into the holdall. The other bag I leave empty for Ruby’s stuff.

I sit on the bed unable to cry and then tell Art it’s time to leave. There’s a fuss of course when I tell Ruby that we’re going away.

‘It’s just a holiday, only a few days.’ Although I know it will be forever. She stamps her feet and pulls her belongings out of her bag as quickly as I put them in. ‘We have to,’ I tell her. ‘We’ll go and see Baxter. It’s been so long.’ I don’t know where the thought came from but Ruby’s face relaxes and she finally allows me to pack her clothes. I instruct her to gather anything else important and when she is done, I click the front door shut and take one last look at my house as the taxi driver helps us haul our luggage into the boot.