The Hunger Trace (24 page)

‘Y’rate, youth,’ said Adam.

‘Friend who stops over?’ Christopher said, smirking.

‘Looks that way,’ Louisa said. ‘Coffee, Adam?’

‘Aye. Ta, duck.’

Louisa went back to the kitchen, knowing she should have stayed, but not quite capable of enduring it. She heard Adam sit down and take a few deep breaths, which whistled through his pursed lips. This meant he had a hangover. She knew such details, now. She turned occasionally to see Christopher staring at Adam, biting the skin of his fingertips.

‘You don’t know score from last night, do you, pal?’ Adam said.

‘Erm. What?’ Christopher said.

‘Derby. Football.’

‘No I do not. Erm. Football is a mug’s game. I was once bullied by someone called Peter Greggs. He thought he was going to be a megastar footballer. He used to say, “One day you’ll be watching me on TV, you, erm, spaz.” Erm. I don’t like being called a spaz.’

‘I’ll bet. What happened to him, then?’ Adam asked.

‘He suffered a career-threatening injury, and now he plays for the Bridge Inn.’ Christopher looked away, as though recalling some old mystery. ‘I’m glad his career’s gone down the, erm, pan,’ he said, as Louisa came back in with the coffee.

‘He sounds a right knob-end,’ Adam said.

‘He was that, yes.’

Louisa scowled at Adam. He smiled back.

‘You’ve got an accent,’ said Christopher.

‘Aye. ’Appen,’ said Adam.

‘It sounds a bit rough.’

‘That’d be right.’

‘Are you and Louisa, erm, getting down to it?’

‘Christopher, Jesus Christ!’ Louisa said.

‘It’s alright,’ Adam said.

‘Who says it’s alright?’ Louisa said. ‘You?’

‘Aye. Me and Christopher are having a good, straight-talking chat.’

Christopher laughed. ‘Yeah, Louisa. Erm, we’re just having a man-to-man.’

Christopher’s amusement caused him to lose his trail of thought, and he did not follow up on his original question. Louisa changed the subject before he had chance to remember. ‘So what was it you wanted to talk about, Christopher?’ she said.

‘Well. It’s a erm, erm, massive day for me, as you know. Absolutely crucial day. I’m meeting Carol-Ann at the Travelodge on the A52.’

‘You’re meeting her at the
Travelodge
?’ said Louisa.

‘That’s the one by the flyover, in’t it?’ said Adam.

Louisa glared at him. Christopher continued. ‘I think it’s a good idea, because that way we can book straight into a room if all goes well. Erm. Sparks could, erm, fly. Although her father is going to wait for her in the car park.’

‘Shit,’ said Louisa, quietly.

‘That’s no way for a lady to speak,’ Christopher said.

Louisa rubbed her eyes.

‘Anyway,’ said Christopher. ‘The tragedy of this whole situation is that the Travelodge is thirteen miles away, and I have no way of getting there.’

‘I see,’ Louisa said.

‘Erm, erm. Hint, hint,’ Christopher said.

‘Well. To be honest, I’m pretty busy,’ Louisa said.

‘Oh right,’ Christopher said. He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Maybe I’ll just, erm, tell the Turncoat Maggie Green that you two lovebirds have got too much, erm, erm, loving to do. She is the last resort.’

Louisa pushed back her hair. ‘What time do you want to go?’

‘Three p.m. Daylight hours. Erm, erm, all the better to see you with.’

‘Okay. I’ll take you. If that’s what you want.’

‘Thanks Louisa. I knew you’d pull through, because we’re such a great team.’

‘Yeah, yeah. No problem.’

Christopher stood, mission accomplished, and wiped the seat of his chinos. ‘See you at one-thirty sharp, then,’ he said. He turned to Adam and waved. Adam winked.

Christopher put a hand to his mouth, as if to whisper, but said loudly to Adam, ‘I’m going to get my rocks off.’

‘Good lad,’ Adam said.

As Christopher opened the door, Louisa took his arm. ‘Christopher?’

‘Yep?’

‘If you have to go . . . take a cold shower first, and lay off the whole Red Riding Hood thing.’

‘Oh right.’

‘It’s not what the ladies are after.’

‘Oh right. Robin Hood, not erm, Riding Hood.’

‘That’s it.’

‘Erm. What’s
your
advice?’ he said, pointing to Adam.

‘Don’t swear,’ Adam said.

‘I hate swearing.’

‘You’ll be rate then, won’t you?’

When Christopher left, they sat in silence for a while, Adam grinning. ‘That’s my neighbour,’ Louisa said.

‘Right,’ said Adam.

‘He’s going to get his rocks off,’ Louisa said.

‘Aye. I know. He said.’

‘Do you want to come along?’ Louisa said.

‘You bet.’

*    *    *

‘Have you ever had a beard at all, Adam?’ Christopher said. They all sat up front in the van, Adam in the middle seat. Louisa drove, in the hope that it might take her mind off the tension she was feeling.

‘No. I can’t really have a beard because of my job.’

Louisa looked at him for longer than was safe on a dual carriageway.

‘You mean you have to be smart for the office?’ Christopher said.

‘Aye, sommat like that,’ Adam said.

‘I started to grow a moustache once but I was afraid I looked like the one out of Freddie Mercury,’ Christopher said. ‘Erm. Do you think Freddie Mercury was strange, at all?’

‘I think he was barmy, youth,’ Adam said. ‘But I reckon it went beyond facial hair.’

‘Oh right,’ Christopher said.

A film of rain sheathed the windscreen between each beat of the wipers. The ruddy bricks and grey roofs of Spondon stood below the flyover, the colours of a pebble beach. When the windows began to steam up, Louisa turned on the heaters. She soon felt Adam start to sweat beside her. He smiled, apparently in no discomfort.

‘I just want the simple life, Louisa,’ Christopher said.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Louisa said.

‘Do you think she’ll be my Marian?’

‘Let’s wait and see.’

‘I wonder what she’ll be wearing. Erm. I bet she’s hot just like an oven.’

‘Careful, kid. I’m feeling fragile,’ Louisa said.

Adam laughed. He put his hand on the back of Louisa’s headrest and stretched. Louisa felt the presence of his arm, could smell his wrist.

‘Have you not seen a picture of her?’ he said to Christopher.

‘Not full length. I haven’t seen a, erm, full frontal,’ Christopher said.

‘Could be in for a surprise, then,’ Adam said.

‘Yes,’ Christopher said. He looked out of the window. ‘Erm. Of course, it was all jerkins and bodkins in those days,’ he said.

Louisa weaved quickly through the Saturday afternoon traffic. She tried not to think of Christopher explaining this road trip to Maggie.

‘People always say, “be yourself”, but I don’t think that’s, erm, the right thing to do in all situations,’ said Christopher.

‘Well, I don’t think you should put on airs and graces,’ said Louisa.

Christopher nodded his approval at the phrase. ‘No way. Erm. But I don’t want her to think I’m the biggest loon this side of Christendom.’

‘Just . . . you know,’ said Louisa. She curtailed her advice to overtake a horsebox, got a flash of the chestnut rear of the beast within. Adam assumed her role in the conversation. ‘There’s nothing wrong with
acting
a certain way. We all do that a bit. As long as you don’t tell lies,’ he said.

‘Oh right. It’s just that sometimes I think it might be a good idea, rather than being myself, to be someone else a bit better,’ said Christopher.

‘Yeah, but who?’ Louisa said, distracted.

Christopher seemed to ponder this for a while. Then he smiled. ‘Louisa, do you think Carol-Ann will run across the marble floor, and jump into my arms, at all?’

‘Don’t reckon it’ll be marble,’ Louisa said, ‘in the Travelodge.’

She felt Adam look at her. She could not tell if it was curiosity, desire, or disapproval.

‘Oh, right,’ Christopher said.

Spiky roadkill blemished Brian Clough Way. They drove out from under the weather, the clouds like blue ink from a black ink pen, petroleum rainbows climbing up the spray. ‘Erm. Next exit to Brooklyn,’ said Christopher.

They came off the carriageway and pulled into the car park, which was almost empty. Adam took out a cigarette.

‘Not in the van,’ Louisa said.

‘No?’

‘Bad for the hawks.’

They all got out, leaned against the doors.

‘Can I crash one of those?’ Christopher asked. Adam took a Marlboro Red from the pack, lit it with his own cigarette, and gave it to Christopher, who held it like a flute. He sucked a little bit, and exhaled immediately. ‘Mmm. These are good,’ he said.

Adam laughed.

‘Do you think women like men to smoke, at all?’

‘I don’t do it when I’m with a lass,’ said Adam, winking at Louisa.

‘Oh right,’ said Christopher.

‘What do you think, Lou?’ said Adam.

Louisa loved the taste of cigarettes on a man’s mouth. Adam had smoked on that first night, despite his pronouncement. ‘I think it’s not good,’ Louisa said.

‘I might take it up, anyway,’ Christopher said.

‘You mean you don’t smoke?’ Louisa said.

‘I do now,’ Christopher said. Louisa witnessed his first nicotine rush and shook her head. He steadied himself against the van. ‘Do you think it’s cool, at all?’

‘Nothing cool about emphysema,’ Adam said.

‘Oh right,’ Christopher said.

Louisa could see the head of a man in an old Volvo estate parked near the hotel entrance. She took him to be Carol-Ann’s father, as did Christopher. ‘He doesn’t need to be here, erm, protecting her,’ Christopher said. ‘I care about Carol-Ann just as much as he does. I feel like saying something to him.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Louisa said.

‘I feel like asking him if he thinks I’m some kind of psycho. Some kind of Peter Sutcliffe wannabe.’

‘Listen,’ Louisa said. ‘It might not even be him. And for God’s sake don’t mention Peter fucking Sutcliffe.’

Adam spluttered with laughter, which set Christopher off, and soon Louisa surrendered to it, too. The laughter lasted for nearly a minute. Adam’s face turned red, and he looked a little helpless, as though he wanted to stop.

‘It’s just not first date material,’ Louisa said through her tears.

‘I was only going to say it to her dad,’ Christopher said.

Adam whooped. ‘Oh, that’s alright, then,’ he said, wiping his eyes.

Louisa looked away and tried to stop smirking. A growl rolled in the back of Christopher’s throat for a few seconds after he had stopped.

‘Hey, it’s time to get in there,’ Louisa said.

‘Aye. You don’t want to keep a lady waiting,’ Adam said.

‘That’s right. I approve of chivalry,’ Christopher said.

‘Go on then.’

He did not move. ‘Erm. Thanks, guys,’ he said.

‘That’s okay,’ Louisa said.

‘Erm. Guys?’ he said.

‘Yes, Christopher,’ Louisa said.

‘I hope that you two get a mortgage together.’

Louisa’s shoulders dropped. She did not reply.

‘Thanks, mate,’ Adam said. ‘Although, to be honest, I think I might have some trouble filling in the forms.’

‘Oh right. I hate bureaucracy.’

They fell silent for a moment, and then Christopher revved an imaginary engine. ‘Erm. Erm. Mansell versus Piquet, Silverstone, 1987,’ he said, and left the van.

‘Goo on lad,’ Adam said.

Louisa watched him cross the car park. He headed for the Volvo, but veered away at the last moment and disappeared through the glass doors. Adam and Louisa got back in the van.

‘Fucking Ada,’ said Adam. And then, ‘Are you alright, duck?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Nothing. I was just thinking of this time in a car park.’

She thought of the herd of ibex, stomping, and scanning the horizon, their hooves like high heels on the concrete. The beat of the kid’s heart against her chest. Adam put his hand on her leg.

It had taken all of her effort to deal with how she felt about Adam, to acknowledge her desires, and to satisfy them. She had avoided considerations of the future. And now, with Christopher’s blessing, the full weight of reality came down on her. The
future
. There would be no mortgages, no family, no real relationship. How could there be? The futility of it was crushing.

‘Are you –
working
, tonight?’ she said.

He nodded, and there was only the sound of the heater. What she found hardest was Adam’s reluctance to rise to the bait, and his consistent kindness to her. If he was going to descend into the surrounding villages every evening to fuck other women, then he could at least act like the sort of person who did such things.