Mo said she was quirky (14 page)

Although he should have texted. Why didnt he? Because if she was in bed. He would have thought she was. She could have texted him. Except she was checking on him, he would think that, and she wasnt. Anyway her phone, she needed a top-up. But it was nothing to do with trust. She only worried. He was a flirt but that was all. It made Helen smile. Even the first time they met. Middlesexy; I was born in Middlesex; I am of the Middlesex breed. Male sex, same sex, trans sex. Any sex. You are a member of the female sex. I am Middlesexy.

But it was true, women liked him. He was a nice man. She was so so lucky. She felt that, strongly, she did, she did and she was, except foolish, foolish foolish Mrs Foolish that was her. She had expected him home by this time. So he must have stopped off.

But he was good at meeting people. Helen was hopeless. She hadnt always been hopeless. Oh God, God.

She hadnt though, she used to have friends. Nowadays she didnt get the chance. Anyway, who would look after Sophie?

Imagine a mother not babysitting. That was Mum. She would if asked but always had to be. Each and every time. She never offered, never ever offered. Imagine that, like never. Oh well. Self-reliance, Helen was good at that, she had to be with him, her ex. The complete opposite of Mo.

Thank God.

South London too. It was real life. So different to the West End, just so different. The casino wasnt reality. They didnt know what reality was.

Obviously he was talking to people and hearing the gossip. In his community everybody gossips, everybody bitches, everybody knows your business. If he wasnt home in five minutes she would go to bed.

She rose from the chair by the front room window. Her woollen socks and a hot-water bottle.

The door into Sophie’s wee place. Oh well, she would make it later, the bed. In the kitchen she filled a kettle and put it to boil. Otherwise she would never sleep. Cold feet must have run in the family. What a trait. For some it is genius or musical instruments, hers had cold feet, it was ludicrous. Her entire family, if it wasnt so sad.

She listened to the water heat, elbow resting on the kitchen counter. Hot-water bottles were old-fashioned but they stood the test of time and she needed to sleep. Concentration. You worked on automatic pilot as a dealer but only to a point. If you made mistakes, too many.

She filled the rubber bottle and tiptoed through to bed, so so tired, and shivery, like just shivery and shivering beneath the duvet. Whyever did she wait so long? mad mad mad, that was her, mad, madness in the family. Snuggling into a small bundle, small as she could be, that was just making herself into it oh my God also because she was so so tired, oh she was, she was; exhausted, physically, and drained, so so unfair, just unfair, because she worked so damn hard, mental exhaustion too. If she was uncomfortable, from her side onto her back, her feet so cold, even in woolly socks my God she could not get warm, and dozing, she managed to doze then was not, and with Brian and the other one crossing the road – if it was Brian, and it was – and staring in at her, him with the limp, no, she didnt like him, it was a funny way to walk, just weird, why did he walk that way? it was strange but it was not her fault why they were staring at her, she had done nothing, she was just in the taxi and not doing a thing to anyone, nothing at all, she would not do anything to anybody, whyever they would think such a thing? they were wrong and should not have stared at her if Jill and Caroline were there too, it was
so unfair, so so unfair, sitting beside her, unless if they were hiding, people hide, oh they hide, why do they hide

She had been sleeping and was awakened by draughts. He was causing draughts. He was under the sheet. She moved closer into him but where were his legs? They were off the bed, angled off; his legs drooped over the side. This was the draughts. She raised herself to see down at his feet; he had his socks on. His eyes were open. Why have you got your socks on? she said.

Mo chuckled.

And his tee-shirt and jogging trousers. He was wearing it all. His arm pushed under her head, the back of her neck; she raised her head to allow his arm below. What are you doing? she said.

Hey now you sound rough.

Mo had whispered and it was a lovely whisper. He was moving her head, onto his chest.
Lifting her head.
Oh God, breathing. Her left hand lay on his waist, her right between their thighs, his skin cool. What time is it? she said.

Never you mind.

Mo.

Quarter to two.

Oh God.

Dont worry.

Helen found the hot bottle, reached over the edge of the bed to lay it onto the floor. Mo clasped her left foot.

You got warm feet, can I have your socks?

He was laughing at her.

I dont know what you think, she said, like you can just come in here.

Heh heh.

Helen settled back beneath the sheets. I didnt think I slept.

You slept.

I did.

You can sleep some more too, you got plenty of time.

I should get up.

No you shouldnt. You should stay where you are.

You should have come in earlier.

Would you have let me!

Helen pretended a shiver and snuggled in more tightly. Mo said, You were so tired. I looked in three times but how could I waken you, it would have been cruel and I’m not a cruel man. That is one thing about me.

He reached to kiss her full on the lips. The kiss lingered; and a smacking sound when they parted. I’ll be late, she said.

Late for what?

For school, to collect Sophie.

No you wont.

I will.

You’re never late.

Sometimes I am.

Mo circled his arm round her shoulders. I’ll go get her.

Helen said nothing. Mo was waiting for her. She was about to speak but didnt, then she did. She expects me to come.

Mo settled down further, holding her more firmly, her upper body to his chest.

She does.

His mouth was close to her ear and she felt the warmth of his breath. He whispered: Hey, you feels good m’dear.

He was touching and rubbing her body. She was so weary, she was, and his hand fully on her tummy a moment, then his fingers to her nipples; oh. If she had raised herself a little, meeting them.

What you call em fings anyway, boosums … bosuns …? When were they invented? is they a new fing? Hey, they’re trapping
me here, I cant hardly move. He was looking at her and she closed her eyes, only his talking and jokes. After a moment he said, Will I take off my clothes or what?

She moved from him and he got out of bed, undressing immediately, tugging off his socks, flinging them at the door. What’s up? he said.

What? Helen paused, she had taken off her nightdress.

You smiled. You did. Yes you did girl you smiled. You smiled at
me
.

You’re so enthusiastic, she said, her hands behind her head. She reached her right hand to the sheet and raised it to cover her breasts.

Mo gazed at her a moment longer. Yeh well it’s still new to me, he said, that’s why. I cant believe my luck. I mean that. It’s like when you cook me a meal and burn the turnips.

Dont be so cheeky.

Helen watched him clamber into bed. He was self-conscious, turning side onto her so she might not see his penis. She did love him. She really did. You never seem to be cold, she said, it’s all the talking you do, talking talking talking.

He moved closely into her, onto his back again, the same position as previously. His skin was like a draught, not cold but cool, and smoother, he had smooth skin.

No, he said, it’s so unusual a thing it is like what they call it, a phenomenon; phenomenonon.

What?

So it’s the first time over and over again, over and over and over and over.

Mo was whispering. Helen loved him whispering, two people together; she lowered her head onto his chest. Her arm and wrist lay between his thighs, then his thing, my God, already hard, she hadnt thought. He made a slight gulping sound. She moved her hand away. He didnt react. Sorry, she said.

What for?

I didnt realise.

What d’you expect?

He was twisting slightly, to kiss her, his body touching across her right nipple. I just want to kiss you. You feel so good. You do.

She didnt answer.

You feel so good.

So do you.

Do I?

He meant the question seriously. Helen stroked down his belly. Mo barely moved. She gripped his penis. Sometimes I cant feel my fingers touching.

He made the gulping sound again. She gripped tightly, and was listening to his breathing, how he wanted her so much, so much, and she could have lifted him up like it was a handle, my God it was, and he might only lie there, and it could be so hard, she knew it could; she knew it
would
, even without touching she knew, and he wouldnt move, he would not move, not until she did.

Why was that? She had to make it known. It was considerate of him. Her ex was the same. In that one way he was and she couldnt say differently. She herself had had to do it; she had to make it known. Her ex didnt until she said, and Mo too, she had
to make it known
, and it was like a secret brought from her, having to give in because like not having a choice. Her eyes were closed, hearing the breathing, him there and looking, hearing his breathing how that catch in the breathing and gulping sound seeing her, her body there and open, lying there, she was naked but for her pants, if he only would pull them down, he would be looking and seeing and his breath taken, her body had taken it from him, him seeing her, her beauty, it was true, the beauty of her body, she would be stretching, her eyes closed
as though unaware, she did not know he was there, he was intruding into her space and she was as though unaware of his presence, knowing that he leaned to her and hearing his breathing now, excitement and even a warmth so his hand would come so gently and to the inside of her thigh, above her knee, ticklish a little and her own gulping, trying not to but it always had the effect, and how he did it, he only stroked her, he only stroked her, not anything more, and no one could say, not a word, never, not about him and not about her. That was what he did, he only stroked her and she could not move she could not move, only she would have, would have touched him if she could but she couldnt, she wasnt to touch him and was so wet, she knew she was, and she wanted him but he wouldnt; he never ever, never.

But Mo did. She raised her head and kissed him. She loved him. He turned side onto her and his right leg came over her; his right elbow lay by her side. She wished he would graze her nipples, this was a time and he didnt, she could have said; he didnt do it and this was a time, but now feeling his weight upon her, his pressing against her and her thighs parting, keeping her eyelids shut until then it entered, the head entering, it felt huge, sometimes it did, and the lobe of his ear by her mouth, she touched it with her lips, as though to nibble, she might have, and he pressed further into her, moving, and both their breathing now, and she waited, her hands resting on his waist, and this made her smile. He whispered, What?

She didnt answer but knew he was pleased, because he knew how she felt and how he wanted her. He said it again: What?

Helen shook her head. He only was who he was, that was Mo, and she loved him, truly she did, she felt that she did. Then when he had moved to orgasm and lowered his body onto her she wrapped her arms round him. She felt so sorry for him, he was so good and did his absolute best, for everybody. This was
the kind of man he was. He didnt think it but he was. He thought he had failed in life but he hadnt failed, never ever, and if he had so had everybody, the most virtuous people, they all came through bad times, they too learned; they became good because they had been so imperfect, failings of youth and now were wise.

Mo too, he was the same, Helen knew that he was.

She heard his breathing, he was still inside her and she stroked his back. He didnt respond. She wondered if he would sleep. His weight onto her, it was a good feeling. If he only would relax completely. She could take his weight and wanted to, if he would, except he wouldnt, he wouldnt allow it. He took his weight on his elbows. If he only would be selfish, he was never selfish, always for other people; she wished he wasnt.

They lay without speaking, but his semen, she reached for the towel she kept by the side of the bed. He also used it to wipe himself, then she went to the bathroom.

Was he asleep when she returned?

Rain pattered against the window. She had been thinking about something. Whatever, it had gone now. But it wouldnt last forever and it would be sunshine.

So the casino was not ideal but it was fine for the present and better than most. She had no complaints. She was used to the wealth and wasted money. That was the job. So get used to it. Or get out.

Poor Mo. He was too good for a restaurant. He would have hated her saying it but it was true. Helen raised her head to see his face. His eyes were closed. But he was awake. He was talented and clever, and witty, he was. He could have been like an actor or somebody. In the entertainment world.

Not that he would be. What did it matter anyway, it was just silly, but it would be better if he didnt call her Soapy. Imagine he said it in front of her friends. That was what
men didnt think about. Girls are not boys. Sophie was right about that.

Perhaps he was too good for like an actor or whatever. Perhaps he was too good for everything. What else would he do? He didnt like business. One of his friends was in business and he was making money. Oh well, perhaps his charm, the irresistible charm, he had his irresistible charm and everybody succumbed, except her. That was funny. Mo said it but it wasnt true. Only some days she was tired. She couldnt raise the curtain, if a curtain was there, it was like a curtain was there, drawn, thick and heavy, laden with dust, so so heavy and like, if anything was on the other side, what could there be? it was too dark, you were too tired. If positives were there, you knew they were, only you were tired, and it was dark. Things were dark, you saw them dark. Helen did