Twisted Agendas (16 page)

Pretending to deliberate, he peered out the window. “What do you suggest?”

“We could get a cleaner and split the cost.”

He wanted to leap at the offer but negotiations weren’t fully concluded. “I don’t need to be threatened with eviction every time we disagree.”

“You won’t be.”

“How do I know that?”

“I promise, you won’t.

He picked up the chinos and put them back in the wardrobe.

Every time the door opened, Danny looked over his shoulder to see who had entered the post office. His response was automatic. He no longer really expected to see the man
who’d been on Piper’s doorstep. There’d been no sighting since that night and the passage of time had diluted his anxiety. He’d even begun to think he had been a little
paranoid, that the stranger hadn’t really been the same man he’d seen at St Giles church. Coming from Northern Ireland and a Catholic, he’d been too sensitive, too fearful of
authority and too suspicious that they were watching his every move like they did real IRA suspects.

Danny took the letter out of the envelope and started to reread it as he shuffled forward in the queue. Written in haste an hour ago, the walk had afforded time for doubt and now was his last
chance to reconsider before he posted it.

All his doubts were gone. He replaced the letter in the envelope, sealed it and waited to buy the stamp.

Julia and Clive were in the living room when he returned, Clive fashioning a joint from a mound of cigarette tobacco mixed with hashish. A lighter and Rizzo papers lay next to
him, beside a small lump of hashish wrapped in cling film. They’d been smoking already. The air was unpleasantly acrid and a blue-grey smoke as thick as a summer mountain haze hung above the
dining room table at the far end of the room.

“Hello there, handsome.” Clive licked the edge of the joint.

Danny nodded.

“What have you been doing lately?” Clive laughed. “I mean who’ve you been doing?”

Julia’s friend was bright but Danny disliked his juvenile need to play the clown. In his thirties, he was no longer exactly young.

“Would you like some vino, Danny?” Julia called from the kitchen, over the thump of the harsh house music she loved to play when she smoked hash.

“Yes, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Clive began to roll another joint. He noticed Danny watching. “Supplies for later.” He removed the joint from the rollers, “You ought to come clubbing with me one
night.”

“Me?”

“Why not?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Clive looked nonplussed for a moment. “Lots of straights go to gay clubs.” He winked mischievously. “It’s just a straight man’s fantasy that gay men are always
trying to get into their pants.” Clive peered with mock salaciousness at Danny’s crotch. “Absolute fantasy, mate.”

Danny glanced toward the kitchen.

Clive held out the joint for Danny to take.

“Thanks, I don’t partake.”

“
Thanks, but I don’t partake.
” Clive’s mouth hung open for a moment, and then he lolled back his head and guffawed. “You sound like a vicar’s daughter
who’s just been asked for a shag.” He lowered his head again and jiggled the joint to indicate Danny should take it.

“Give it a go, mate. People need to try everything once, if you get my drift.”

“I don’t think… ”

“Come on. See what you’ve been missing.”

Julia came in with a tray containing two glasses of wine and a plate of sliced cheddar and crackers. “Are you corrupting my flatmate?”

“So far, unsuccessfully.”

Julia and Danny laughed. Clive took a deep pull of the joint and then held it out for Danny to take. He jiggled his fingers as if he were enticing a puppy with food.

An image of Danny’s father sitting in his study with a tumbler of scotch came to mind as Danny regarded the joint. It was five years ago. His father was giving him a lecture before he left
home for university. He warned him he’d encounter students who habitually took drugs and he was to stay away from them. Lest that warning wasn’t sufficient, he finished by saying,
‘I’ll break your back if I ever hear you’ve been taking them.’ Danny recalled what he’d said, how London was full of degenerates who took drugs, how it was a trap for
naive young Irish people.

Danny took the joint and gingerly placed it between his lips. He was instantly repulsed by the tip’s unexpected wetness. He willed himself to ignore the sensation, and closed his eyes as
he carefully inhaled. The smoke hit hard against the back of his throat and he immediately expelled the rank tasting air.

He held it out for Clive to take back. “I don’t feel a bit different.”

“You need to take a few more hits.”

A hollow thumping not in synchronisation with the loud beat of the music commenced.

“Oops, pissed off Mrs. Hartley again,” Julia said.

“Take a few more puffs,” Clive said to Danny.

He did as Clive suggested, happier now that the saliva on the remainder of the joint was his own. While Clive and Julia watched, he took deeper pulls, breathed in and held it for a moment before
expunging the smoke.

“Excellent,” Julia said, taking the joint from him.

It felt like he was back in school and had just been praised by a teacher for some extraordinary work he’d done. As he watched Julia tilt back her head and expel a funnel of smoke toward
the ceiling, a sensation of warm serenity overtook Danny. His head felt very light. He blinked lazily as he watched her pass the joint to Clive.

An assembly line commenced, Danny taking the joint every time Clive finished his turn. Then he passed it on to Julia. The serenity intensified and his ears started to buzz.

“This is fantastic,” Danny heard himself say. It sounded as if he were outside his body.

“What’d I tell you, mate?”

“Oh God, we’ve corrupted him,” Julia said.

Someone knocked on the front door.

“Mrs. Hartley’s persistent,” Julia said.

As Danny watched Julia go into the kitchen, she seemed to glide in slow motion. It also seemed to take her forever to return. When she did, she had a can of air freshener. She spritzed the room
liberally. The door was knocked again, more persistent this time.

“I’m coming.” Julia went to the door. “Mrs. Hartley, I’m not playing… Katie?”

“Julia.”

Danny pulled himself up on the sofa.

Clive pulled a mock-terrified face at Danny.

“You never return my calls,” Katie said. “Can I come in?”

“Clive and Danny are here.”

Another silence before Julia stepped aside allowing her to enter. She greeted the men with a nod.

“Sit,” Julia said, and she walked over to where she’d been sitting on the sofa beside Clive.

Danny’s buzz dissipated. The cozy atmosphere felt suddenly awkward. Clive tilted his head and pushed against the sofa back. Katie took a seat across from Danny.

“Smells interesting in here,” Katie said.

“We’re corrupting Danny,” Julia said.

“You are?” Katie laughed, but it sounded anxious to Danny.

“He’s a pro now,” Clive said. He fished in the breast pocket of his shirt and retrieved a new joint. “Do you want a puff, Katie?”

She looked over at Julia as if needing permission, but Julia remained deadpan.

“Just a quick one, then,” Katie said. “I mustn’t take too much because I have to drive home.” She glanced at Julia again.

The delicious buzz Danny had previously experienced returned. He adjusted the cushion and settled contentedly into the armchair. The music on the CD player changed to techno, its energetic
tribal beat making him want to dance. He began to sway in time to the beat.

Clive watched him. “You go, girl.”

“Why don’t we all go dancing later?” said Julia.

“I can’t.” Katie crossed her feet. “Not tonight.”

“Isn’t Mrs. Ratcliffe looking after the children?”

“Harry is.”

“Call and tell him you’re coming out tonight.” Julia took a long drag of the joint.

“You can stay here.”

“It’s not that simple, Julia. I was hoping we could talk.”

Crystal clear, fully formed thoughts streamed through Danny’s head as he swayed it back and forth. Soon Susan would receive the letter and the last bonds between them would be severed
forever. His father’s face loomed now. He was wrong about England. He knew nothing about London life. Danny should have lived here years ago. He should even have gone to university here. What
had he been so afraid of? He knew the answer. His father had made him afraid. Fear was his father’s weapon. The hash allowed him to see very clearly. He should have smoked it in Belfast.

“Don’t you think she should call her husband, Clive?” Julia’s voice seemed to arrive from Mars.

“You should, Katie.”

Clive was a nice guy but totally obsessed with his sex life. That thought made Danny realise he wanted sex, too. Badly. He hadn’t had it for ages. He felt suddenly horny. Finty’s
pert breasts and gorgeously firm arse sprang into Danny’s mind. He wanted to fuck her. His testicles crawled. He grew erect. But it wouldn’t happen. She was uninterested. She was far
more interested in her puppy, wanted him only as a friend to study vocabulary with. His hard-on began to subside. His thoughts segued to Katie.

“What do you think, Danny?” Julia asked.

Katie shouldn’t be here is what Danny thought. She was selfish. She had responsibilities at home.

“
Danny
?”

He opened his eyes and saw everyone was staring at him.

“Miss Ireland’s out of her bloody tree,” said Clive.

Julia and Clive began to laugh.

He blinked fast. “I don’t appreciate you addressing me like I’m female, Clive.”

Their laughter grew until tears began to stream from their eyes.

Danny and Katie looked at each other in astonishment and then turned in unison to regard Clive and Julia. He watched until they managed to rein themselves in, both wiping away their tears with
their fingers.

“Don’t you think Katie should ring her husband and tell him she’s staying over with me tonight.”

He was smart enough not to get embroiled in a nasty argument. “Well, I can see your point about that… and then again, I can see Katie’s, too.”

“Very decisive, that is,” Clive said.

“Katie’s got kids,” Danny said. “Not everybody can be free and easy like you, Clive.”

Katie took a tissue from the pocket of her jeans. “Julia, I came here to talk but I see you’re enjoying making me feel bad. Rupert told Harry he saw us kissing at the river.
I’ve only yesterday managed to convince my husband our son was mistaken. I can’t stand it that you don’t return my calls. I’ve
tried
to make things work as best I can
so nobody gets hurt. I’d even decided I’m prepared to leave my husband one day.” She rose and went quickly to the front door. “It’s clear now you don’t give a
damn about me.” Pulling the door open, she ran out to the street.

Julia went after her.

She regarded Todd’s profile as he slept, bathed in the orangey glow of the streetlight filtering through the window. His breathing was barely audible, his chest glistened
with sweat. When she touched his cheek, he stopped breathing for a long moment before settling back into a peaceful rhythm.

It had been bad again. No, bad wasn’t the right word. That was too final, a pronouncement, a judgment, something that could never change, would never change. Why could she not get into
what was happening when they had sex? She was twenty-three. She’d been with eight men in her life up to now. All the Americans except the two Hispanics were within five years of her age, the
rest older up to forty-five. Piper drew the line at forty-five no matter how athletic the guy’s body. There’d been one professor, a Broadway singer, one muscled NYC sanitary worker, two
African and one Asian-American NYU students. Three had had varying shades of blonde to red hair including Todd, one was silver-grey and another had even been bald. The variety was deliberate. Piper
felt she should have been turned on by at least one man by now.