Demo (11 page)

Soap up that flaming bush, he says. He's rubbin the front of his jeans. I stick the bar of soap in the water again, then rub
it on the front of my pubes until they're all covered in bubbles.

Like this? I says.

He doesny say nothin. Just groans.

I must admit I'm getting the melty feeling dead strong too. I keep buildin up the lather and rubbin and Julian keeps on watchin and groanin.

I wonder how long he wants me to do this. Cause I must be clean by this time. And then it happens again. The heat shoots up fae my crotch right up through me to my head and waves come over my whole body. I stop movin my hand and lean forward and groan too. I look down and big splashes of blood are droppin among the white suds and flowin away down the hole. I watch it all disappearin and wait till the waves get fainter. I put my hand under the flow and scoop warm water onto my pubes until all the soap's away. Then I turn off the tap. It's dead quiet suddenly. I get up. My knees are tremblin and blood's tricklin down the inside a my thighs.

Oh God, I says. I lean back against the wall. The white tiles are cold and the shock of them wakes me up. I pick up the towel and stick it between my legs. Then I look at Julian. He's still lyin on the bed, but he's starin at the ceilin now. I walk over to him and sit on the bed.

You weren't supposed to come, he says.

But I've washed as much as I can. How long did you want me to stay there for?

No. You weren't supposed to
come
.

Oh… right… I'm sorry.

He doesny say nothin.

I didny mean to.

He still doesny say nothin.

I couldny help it.

He just lies there.

*

I don't know what time it is when I wake up and hear the tappin. Feels like hours later. I listen for a minute. Julian's half on top of me, breathin slow and steady, still sleepin. It took me ages to get him in a good mood again after the carry-on wae the bidet. Even then he wouldny do it unless I called him Henry. Henry! And he called me Germaine.

Like Germaine Greer? I says.

Decidedly not, he says. But he did laugh. Seems she was a character in a book, this Germaine.
Topic of Cancer
or something.

The tappin comes again. A wee bit louder. I waken up more.

Julian, I says. I think somebody's at the door.

Hhhrmm?

The door. Somebody's there. Oh my God, maybe it's Mr Abensur, I whisper.

Wha…?

Somebody's at the door.

Julian takes his arm off me and sits bolt upright. Who is it? he says.

There's this muffled female voice: It's me.

Laetitia, I whisper.

Can I come in?

Wait a minute, Julian says. And he starts to get up.

No, I says. I grab his arm. Don't let her in. She'll see me here.

He shakes me off, switches on the light above the bed and goes towards the yellow door. Just a minute, he says. His dreads are spread out over his bare shoulders. He's got no claes on; his back and his bum are sorta flushed pink wae the warm. And he's away to open the door.

I scrabble to fling the sheets off me, jump out the bed, run intay the bathroom and pull the bolt. I hear him turnin
the key, openin the door of the room and speakin to Laetitia.

Come in, he says. What's the matter?

She's cryin. Laetitia's cryin. I hear her sniffin and sobbin. I listen at the door, but they're talkin dead quiet; I canny make them out.

Great.

The bidet's nearest the door, so I sit on the edge of it and wait.

I still canny hear nothin. I notice my bag's in the corner wae my boots. My claes are lyin on the floor damp, so I pick them up dead quiet and hang them on the radiator. No that it'll make any difference, cause the radiator's off. I'm gettin cold too.

Then I have the idea to take another shower. It'll warm me up. I slide the shower door open. She'll hear it, Laetitia, but I'm no stayin in here all night. Even if it's what Julian wants. That will be right. I reach into the cubicle and turn the shower to high. The water shoots out cold again, but I close the door quick and wait for it to heat. It doesny take long. As soon as the perspex steams up, I slide the door back a wee bit and step in.

I don't want to wet my hair again but, so I wiggle the shower head down the pole and let the water run ontay my boobs and my belly. I find another wee bar of lemon soap and unwrap it. I don't need much of a wash, but I do it anyway. For something to do. I wonder if they're talkin about me.

Wae the water runnin, it takes a minute afore I hear the bangin. I turn off the shower.

Clare? Julian's sayin. Clare, it's alright, you can come out. Clare, can you hear me?

Aye. I'm just comin. I step out ontay the cold tiles. There's only a wee hand towel left on the rail. One big one's soakin and the other yin's in the bed. I hope it did stop the blood
gettin on the sheets. I dry mysel as best I can wae the hand towel. I'm glad I didny wet my hair again. It's damp now and the ends are wet, but at least it's no drippin. I get another tampon out the box in my bag, crouch on the bidet and stick it in. Still three left. I'm gettin the hang of them now. Maybe I'll keep usin them when I get home. I take my jeans off the radiator and pull them on. They feel horrible. Cold and damp. All crumpled. My bra's no too bad cause it's nylon. My T-shirt's worse than my jeans. I can feel mysel startin to shiver.

Clare, what's keeping you? C'mon.

I don't say anythin. I don't want to go out there. Maybe she's away. I canny ask but, in case she's no. I pull on my sweatshirt wae the hood and zip it up. It doesny even make me feel any warmer. I fish my socks out my boots and sit on the bidet to pull them on. At least they're dry. I slide my feet intay the boots and do them up.

Clare, for Christsake!

Comin. I go over and take a look in the steamed-up mirror. My eyes are big and my face is dead pink. I try out a smile but it doesny look real. Comin. I open the door slow and look in the room.

I'm expectin them to be sittin on the bed, so first I don't see them. Then something moves in the middle of the room. Julian's standin wae his arms round Laetitia. He's got his jeans on, but nothin else. He takes his arms fae round her, holds her shoulder, looks at her face.

OK? he says. You ready?

Laetitia nods. You can see she's been cryin, cause her mascara's all ran.

Hi, I says.

Julian turns to me but he keeps one arm round Laetitia's shoulder.

Hi, Laetitia says. She doesny smile.

Clare… Julian says. And stops. He looks at me. Like he doesny know what to say.

What?

Laetitia's got on a red jumper. It's no holey like her black one. She's got baith her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. She still looks dead pretty even though she's been greetin.

What? I says again.

Her eyes don't seem to be as black in this light. More a sorta dark reddy brown. Maybe it's cause of her jersey. Or cause she's been cryin. I look at Julian again.

Clare, look…I…

Let's sit down, Laetitia says. She pulls her hands out her pockets, looks round the room, goes to the corner, picks up the gold wicker chair and sets it down in front of me. She's movin dead quick and jerky.

Please, sit, she says to me. She's half bendin over and she's got her hands on the back of the chair. This feels dead weird, but I sit down anyway. Laetitia's hand brushes against my back when she moves away. She comes round in front of me and sits on the end of the bed. She clasps her hands round one knee. Julian sits beside her.

I look at them baith. They don't say nothin. Julian's got his head down.

Good shower? Laetitia says.

Alright, I suppose. I shrug my shoulders.

What happened to your hair?

It's just a wee bit damp.

No, at the back.

I reach my hand round to feel it. Oh, that. Julian was showin me how to start makin dreads. She looks at Julian, but he doesny lift his head.

I see, she says. Well, I think you'd better comb it out, hadn't you, before you get home. Your father wouldn't like it.

I feel my face goin red, but I don't say nothin.

So… Laetitia says.

Clare, Julian says suddenly, I think you should go back to your own room. He's lifted his head at last, but he's still no lookin at me. No in the eye, anyhow. I keep lookin at him. His face is white and his mouth is a hard line. Then I look at Laetitia. She
is
lookin me right in the eye. I still don't say nothin. I canny think of anythin to say. Her eyes are burnin right intay me.

I don't get up till I feel the tears startin to prick. I look round for my coat. It's lyin in the corner on top of Julian's jacket. I pick it up, then go in the bathroom for my bag. I keep my head down, so's my hair falls over my face. So's they canny see me and I canny see them. I step over their feet on my way past to the door. My bag and my coat are bundled up in front of me. I open the door, squeeze out, shut it behind me.

It's dark.

I feel for the time switch on the wall and the light comes on. You get about four minutes afore it goes off again. The corridor looks different fae when I came in. Cold. The dark red carpet leads past three other rooms on this floor. I hurry along it. All the doors are closed.

When I get back to my room, I remember I don't have the key. I look at the closed door. I'll have to knock. If Danny's there, he'll wake up and let me in. I hope he's no there. No, I hope he is. If he isny, I'll have to get the key from Reception. I'll have to wake everybody up. Mr and Mrs Abensur. They'll no be pleased. I'm tired. I set my coat and my bag on the floor. There's no carpet on this corridor. Only the same hard marbly stuff like in the room. The wee white and black and grey flecks. They swim together all blurry when I look at them. I press my ear to the door. Nothing. Not a dicky bird.
If Danny's in there, he must be sound asleep. He's no gonny be too chuffed either. The number on the door is 32, two brass numbers screwed on. The more I look at them, the more they melt thegether into a goldy blob. I wonder what happened. Wae Danny and Laetitia. I wonder what Julian and her are doin. The handle's brass too with the keyhole underneath. The light goes out.

I feel my hand along the wall to the end of the corridor and press the switch again. Then I come back to the door and look at the handle. I press it down a wee bit. It doesny make a noise. I press it right down. The door opens. It's been open all the time. I push it in slow. I can see by the light fae the corridor Danny's no there. The two beds are neatly made. I hold the door open and reach across the lobby for my coat and bag. I'm feart the door'll bang shut and I really will be locked out. Even though I know that's daft. I slide my stuff across the floor, in through the door and go in efter it mysel.

I switch on the light. I've forgot how white it is. I keep a hold of the door. It's on one a they springs; it closes slow for a wee while, then it pure bangs shut. I hold it till it gets to the place where the spring jerks, then pull it back a wee bit and let it in slow. It closes without makin a noise. Except the click of the spring, when it's reached the bit.

The picture of Our Lady's still lookin down fae the wall. I look at my bed. My red T-shirt's folded dead neat and laid on the top. Like my ma's been in. I sit down beside it and let the tears come.

I remember the dream dead clear when I waken up. I'm in l'Accademia. It's night-time. It's dark. There must be a moon but, cause there's silver squares lyin on the floor fae the windows. Enough light to see by. I look round. I canny see the
Prisoners.
The Slaves. There're no in the bit they were
before. I canny see them anywhere. I look back to where they were supposed to be. This time I notice six big blocks a stone standin on pedestals. I start to panic. Where are they?
Il Prigioni
? Then I remember the
David.
I turn and look down to the end a the gallery. He's no there either. No even a block a stone. Just a pedestal. I cross the silver squares and walk up to where he should be. I keep thinkin he must be there, he must be. I get nearer and nearer. I think maybe I'm in the wrong place. The wrong gallery. And then I notice the computer thing's on and there's a close-up of his head wae his eyes starin intay the distance. And then one of his foot where the guy broke his toe wae a hammer one time. I think, Well he must be here then and I'm just no seein him. I look at the pedestal again. That's when I notice it. The wee white statuette. The size of an Oscar when the actors go up on stage to get it. A wee statuette of
David
.

I wake up and the pillow's wet. My hair too. And my arms and legs are stiff, like efter PE when Miss Roger makes us vault the horse. That was a horrible dream. I think about the
David,
big and still, along the road in l'Accademia. I think about Julian and my throat feels tight. It must be early yet, cause there's no much light in the room, even though I've left the shutters open. But it is morning, cause I can hear the water pipes gurglin in some other part of the B&B. Somebody takin a shower likely.

I peer at my watch in the dark, but I canny see the hands and I don't want to switch on the light. No yet. There's still no sign of Danny. His bed's no been slept in. I can see it there, white and smooth, in the dim light. It feels like a hundred years fae I was in it wae Julian. The tears start prickin again, so I think about other things. If I'll have a shower. Breakfast. Goin back on the bus the day. School on Tuesday. Maybe I'll skip Tuesday as well as Monday. The whole week even. Just
go intay town instead. Hang about the shops. Hang about. Maybe I'll…

There's naybody in the breakfast room when I come in. No even Mr Abensur. The big silver coffee machine isny even on. There's a cloth draped over the top of it. Like a blanket. Like wae my granny's budgie, so's he would sleep. Joey. So's he wouldny keep my granny wakened all night wae his cheepin. I look at my watch again. It's ten past seven. Breakfast's supposed to be between seven and nine thirty. Or maybe it's different on Sunday. Maybe it's later. I don't want to go back to my room, so I go to the table at the window and sit down. It's gettin light now, but it's still quiet outside. When a car goes by suddenly, it sounds dead loud, rumblin over the cobbles. That echoey way when the streets are quiet. There's a wee bit a sun already, slantin over the tops a the buildins across the street. The colour of honey. Maybe it'll be sunny the day again.