The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) (21 page)

Then again, Jason had also described his father as a crook.

Helen nearly gave him the slip, but fortunately Jason managed to catch up with her on the pavement. ‘It’s raining. Let’s get a taxi.’

‘Taxis are expensive. I’m happy on the bus.’

‘But I’m not, and I’m in charge.’

‘Oh, yeah? Since when?’

‘Since right now.’ He twirled her around and planted a kiss on her lips.

Helen drew back with a slight scowl on her face. ‘What was that for?’

‘Oh, nothing. I’m just glad I know you. Happy to be alive, that’s all. And out of there.’ He tossed his head in the direction of her uncle’s house, and, hiccupping loudly, he tried hailing a taxi. The driver ignored him.

‘You’re drunk,’ she scoffed.

He grinned. ‘A bit. Your uncle serves good wine, apart from that awful champagne. Yuck.’ He had drunk a fair amount and was feeling pleasantly mellow, especially now he’d escaped his father’s presence. He was also less drunk than Helen supposed.

‘Didn’t stop you knocking it back, I imagine.’ She wolf-whistled for a taxi, which did a U-turn and came to a halt beside them.

‘Impressive,’ he muttered as they bundled into the back.

When they got back, the house was completely dark. Jason flicked the switch in the hall, but the bulb went out with a ping.

‘Bugger. I’ll have to sort that out in the morning.’

An awkward silence fell, and he hoped she didn’t think he’d engineered for the bulb to pop. Making light of it, he said, ‘Well, thanks for seeing me home safely. It’s nice to know someone’s concerned for my welfare.’

He felt rather than saw her smile. ‘Oh, you know, Women’s Lib and all that. It was fun. I enjoyed being with you,’ she added, then stopped abruptly as if she worried she’d said too much.

‘Are you having a laugh? I’ve been grumpy all evening.’

‘Only half the evening.’

Laughing, he placed his hand on the wall beside her head, and looked down into the only thing glinting in the darkness, her eyes. ‘I suppose this is where we say goodnight.’

‘I suppose so.’

He remembered how she’d reacted to him the last time he’d nearly lost himself in her. That should have been enough for him to keep his distance. Instead, drunk partly on alcohol and partly on her presence, he had, before he knew it, done the exact opposite of what he’d planned to do, had moved up close and was kissing her with abandon.

Forcing her against the wall, almost knocking the wind out of them both, he pushed himself between her legs, and let her feel just how much he wanted her. She responded by rubbing shamelessly against him, and the lust for her which he’d hoped to put a lid on just got ten times worse. Her lips were soft under his and quivered like he felt his own body shake with the effort of holding back.

‘Oh, God!’ she breathed before he shut her up with his mouth again. He had no awareness of anything other than her; her skin, her scent, the inviting movements of her hips, the way her breasts moulded themselves to the shape of his hand.

His shock was therefore palpable when she shoved him hard in the chest, and he had to step back in order to regain his balance.

‘What?’ he gasped.

‘I like living here,’ she said, and the amusement had gone from her voice. ‘If we get involved, we might ruin that.’

‘You’re probably right.’ He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, feeling like a cad. ‘Do you know what, you’re more beautiful than you realise?’

‘That’s a bit patronising. How do you know what I realise about myself?’

He smiled. ‘Good point. I just wanted to say that you’re very beautiful.’

‘How can you tell? It’s dark in here.’

‘I meant on the inside.’ He kissed her on the forehead and tore himself away while he still had some decency left in his bones. ‘Good night.’

He left her with a sense that more needed to be said on the subject.

She had eyes in her head, she knew she had lovely hair, a good body, and a pretty face, but even Fay with her magic wand and the loan of a velvet dress couldn’t change how she saw herself. Attractive on the outside, but inside she was like the elephant man, grotesque, twisted, and horrible.

Closeness to other people meant at some point she’d have to tell them about her epilepsy, but when and how was always an issue. They either overreacted or ended up defining her purely by her condition, or both. Sometimes they even saw her as abnormal, like she did herself.

A freak. The spaz kid. By pulling back she protected herself before it came to that.

At the same time it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

She paused on the landing to touch her lips, which were still warm from kissing Jason, and smiled when she heard a scuffling sound at the top of the stairs.

Lee, she thought. He might freak Charlie out, but it gave Helen a certain comfort knowing he was up there. It was almost as if he was watching over her.

The feeling of comfort lasted until she opened the door to her room. Cool, damp air hit her, and she switched on the light and noticed the open window. She’d forgotten to close it. Or had she? She couldn’t remember, and not being able to remember whether she’d closed it or not made her flesh crawl.

It was nothing tangible, more like a sense that the walls and the furniture had witnessed a violation of her privacy while she was out.

She flicked the light switch again and, hidden by the darkness, went to peer outside. Everything seemed normal. Then, in the sparse light from the street lamps, her eyes were drawn to a car parked opposite the house. It was a dark car, nothing special about it, and inside it she could just about make out the silhouette of a person and the intermittent glow from what might be a lit cigarette. It had probably nothing to do with her, but after meeting Jason’s father earlier and finding out about his tenuous connection to her family, and that he wasn’t pleased she was living in his son’s house, she couldn’t prevent the little hairs on the nape of her neck from standing on end. Her body was telling her what her mind refused to accept.

Had Jason’s father sent someone to spy on her?

A sudden paranoia hit her. Sweetman had told her where to find Fay. Sweetman worked for Aggie, the co-founder of the company headed by Letitia who might be having a fling with her uncle, who in turn did business with Jason’s father. And Jason owned the halfway house where Fay, and now also Helen, had ended up. Whatever was happening here, Helen couldn’t see through it.

For most of her life she’d tried to blend in and just be an anonymous face in the crowd, and succeeding pretty well except for the times when her epilepsy had brought unwanted attention. Now, everyone’s eyes seemed to be focused on her, and it both alarmed and irritated the hell out of her.

She shut the window and drew the curtains roughly. Whoever was out there, for whatever reason, could just sod off. For the moment she had plenty of other things to worry about.

She kicked off her boots and shrugged out of the velvet dress, recalling Jason’s hands on her as she did so. Her skin tingled where she’d felt the press of his fingers, as if he had scorched her through the fabric.

What had possessed her to push him away like that? She wanted him, and he wanted her, that was obvious. But how much did he want her? Was he prepared to take on all of her; the body afflicted by epilepsy, the soul damaged by years of bitterness and self-imposed isolation, both elements the cause and the curse of her whole being? No one in their right mind would, surely, and she wouldn’t blame them.

She liked Jason. She didn’t want him just physically, however gorgeous he was, and before she took that leap of faith, she had to make sure he didn’t want her just physically either.

Enough. I can’t think about this right now.

Sighing, she pushed the thought aside and slipped on a night T-shirt. With the bed covers tucked around her in the still-cold room, she was about to switch off the bedside light when she remembered the knives in Arseni’s study. She’d believed him when he said there were four. That wasn’t it.

She fetched the list Sweetman had given her and returned to bed, where she forced herself to read through it. She had so few memories of her mother, and if she could only picture some of the items in their house or even her mother holding something, anything, then maybe she could get those lost years back.

But she drew a blank. Nothing stood out, it was just things, with no memory attached to them at all. She’d expected it to be a slightly painful exercise, even when she read it for the second time. What she got instead was a gut-wrenching nothingness.

Wishing Jason was next to her, she curled up on the bed with her face buried in the pillow, and lived through the loss of her mother for the hundredth time.

Chapter Fifteen

From the top of the basement stairs Jason heard her close the door above. There was a certain finality to it, and he cursed himself for having so many scruples.

He wanted to go to bed with her, and she didn’t seem repulsed by the idea, so why hadn’t he pushed her harder?

Because his kind of trouble was the last thing she needed.

Everything about her screamed vulnerability, and there was too much she wasn’t prepared to share. What had happened was probably for the best, because the more interested he was in her, the more his father would be too, and he had to spare her that.

Which meant controlling his urge to sleep with her. And that was bloody difficult.

Hearing movement on the top floor, he realised Lee was up there, lurking, watching, minding his own business, as usual, and everyone else’s. He wondered if Lee fancied her too. It wouldn’t surprise him. Helen’s unique blend of independence and fragility could turn the head of any red-blooded man, but now Jason thought about it, he couldn’t remember ever seeing Lee with a girl. Lee had never talked about girls, not that he talked much, and he even seemed afraid of women, Charlie in particular.

Perhaps Lee saw a kindred spirit in Helen, someone else who liked to hide in the shadows, and was trying to protect her. The thought of a mugger as her knight in shining armour made Jason smile.

He took the last few stairs down and closed the door to his own room behind him. Tossing his keys on his bedside table, he thought about his father’s reaction when he’d mentioned the company Helen worked for. If he got involved with her, chances were he’d find himself slap-bang in the centre of his father’s world despite all his attempts at keeping out of it.

Perhaps he ought to ask her to leave the house, under the pretext that they were getting too close for the whole flatmate scenario, but where would she go then? He could see now what Charlie had meant when she used the word ‘trouble’. Helen was hot, in more ways than one, and he was bound to get his fingers burnt, but perhaps he was trouble for her as well.

Especially now that his father had become part of the equation.

Monday after work Helen decided to see Aggie. It was dark by the time she got there, and Mrs Sanders took ages answering the door.

‘I’d like to see my grandmother.’

‘What, now?’

‘Yes, and? Do you have set visiting hours? She’s not in a home yet.’

Mrs Sanders’s lip curled with dislike. ‘Mrs Ransome needs her rest, but now that you’re here, you’d better come in, I suppose. Though I can’t say if she’ll be pleased to see you.’

In the back parlour Aggie was in bed with the cellular blanket across her legs, accompanied only by the light from a bedside lamp.

‘She’s asleep.’ Mrs Sanders tried to block Helen from moving towards the bed.

‘Then I’ll wake her.’ Side-stepping the nurse, Helen took Aggie’s hand. It was heavy and swollen, yet the skin felt paper thin as if it had reached bursting point and couldn’t hold the expanding flesh in place for much longer.

Aggie opened her eyes. ‘Oh, it’s you, girl. Thought you could fit me into your busy schedule, did you?’

‘That’s right.’ Helen let go of her hand, then on impulse pressed a kiss to her forehead.

A vigilant gleam entered Aggie’s eyes which hadn’t been dulled by her diabetes. ‘Are you going sentimental on me, child?’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘Not at all.’ Aggie glanced at Mrs Sanders who was still hovering determinedly. ‘Thank you. That’ll be all.’

Scowling, the nurse left, closing the door behind her with enough force to make her aggravation known, yet not quite hard enough to cost her her job.

Aggie sighed. ‘Such a temper.’

‘Why don’t you get someone nicer?’

‘Oh, I haven’t the energy. Anyway Mrs Sanders is very efficient. It can’t be much fun for her being cooped up here with me.’ Her fat face cracked into a wicked grin. ‘You know, she puts me to bed early so she can watch
EastEnders
or another one of those horrid, tedious soaps.’

‘Some people love them.’

‘Then they haven’t the sense they were born with!’ Aggie waved a hand at her. ‘Don’t just stand there, girl. Pull up a chair. And switch on some lights. It’s too dark in here.’

Helen switched on all the lamps in the room, and Aggie added another command.

‘And the curtains. Mrs Sanders closes them too early. It drives me positively insane.’

‘Do you want the door open as well? It’s a bit stuffy in here.’

‘Please.’

Immediately the air, crisp and fragrant with dewy roses and dampened earth, restored Helen’s spirits. Aggie seemed to feel the same.

‘Who would’ve thought Kensington could smell so sweet?’

‘Not as sweet as Goa.’

Aggie opened her eyes. ‘Do you miss it?’

‘A bit. Strangely, I felt like I belonged there.’

‘Nothing strange about that. We all need to feel we belong somewhere. Why not Goa?’

Then why did you reject me?
Helen caught the words in time and just shrugged.

‘So what’s the reason for your visit today?’

‘To see you.’

‘You’re not very adept at lying, my dear.’

Helen grimaced. When other people saw right through you, it didn’t give you a chance to prepare what you wanted to say. ‘I have some questions.’

‘Hah!’

‘You left a folder with Sweetman for me to read. Why didn’t you give it to me yourself?’