Virtually Perfect (9 page)

Eve knew it was madness, everyone was staring.  She couldn't remember the last time she'd had this much fun.

They burst out on Marine Parade, weaving between parked cabs and running across.  Music pumped from the bars, huddles of smokers clustered outside, but it was quiet out on the street.  It must have been before midnight.  The pier was still lit up, its lights twinkling in the water.  Eve balked at a police car, but he didn't stop.  They scooted down Madiera Drive, running alongside the Volks railway track.

'Please slow down!' panted Eve, dragging on his hand.  'I can't breathe!' 

Ben laughed.  His loud footsteps petered out to a walk.  He threw his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her.  Eve slipped hers around his waist, under his jacket.  He felt sweltering through the shirt. 

The moon hung high and bright, the silver rays fanning out across the sea.  It was dead calm; flat, like a mirror.  Eve heard the occasional wave break amidst the dull, thudding bass of the bars.  The weather was turning.  She breathed in the sea air.  The wind had lost its bite.  In fact, now they had stopped running, there didn't seem to be any wind at all. 

They strolled towards the entrance arches.  Eve looked up at the aquarium clock.

'I thought it was later than that.'

Ben's leather-soled shoes clacked on the wooden boards as they followed the rail of the pier.  A quick stroll, and they'd be heading back.  The pier would be closing in twenty minutes. 

'Do you want to get your palm read?' asked Ben, as they strolled past the little pagoda.  It didn't even look like there was anyone in.

'No,' said Eve.  'I had it done once before.  I can't imagine very much has changed.'

'What did she tell you?' 

'He.  It was in Sri Lanka.  He was very good, actually.  He told me I'd have a long life, no major illnesses... and that I worry too much.  I think my hands shaking probably gave that away more than my lifeline or mount of Venus...  I was terrified he was going to tell me something awful, you know?  That must be ten years ago now, and I have to say it's proven to be remarkably accurate...'

She smiled ruefully.

'I mean, he neglected to tell me quite a bit - practically everything really - but that was probably for the best.'

'...No tall, dark  stranger?'

'Oh yes,' Eve chided.  'There were a couple of those.'

The night club on the pier was closing.  A pair of scantily clad, bottle blondes fell out of the door, squinting at Eve and her unique ensemble.

'I bet they're not wearing any knickers either,' Ben whispered in Eve's ear.  She pursed her lips, lowering her head as they walked by. 

'Good Evening,' smiled an old man out walking his Yorkshire Terrier.

'Lovely night,' offered Ben.  Eve gave an embarrassed smile and a nod.

They passed the amusements, arriving at the end of the pier.  The lights were going out on the amenities, one by one.  Another five minutes, and they would be turfed off. 

Ben stood in the corner, leaning against the rail, looking back down the pier.  He cast a glance down over the edge.  The tide was in.  There was barely a ripple.

Eve thrust her hands into her fleece-lined pockets, lowering her chin.  She looked out to sea, watching the twinkling amber lights of a freighter on the horizon, fighting back a yawn.  She was starting to ache from unpacking all those boxes earlier.  She remembered Curtis's little speech.  Maybe she had gone overboard.  She shouldn't have sworn.  Eve started to feel a bit anxious.

'So anyway.  You were saying?  ...How do you know I won't fuck you over?'

Eve turned.  Her eyes bulged in confusion. 

He stood there unbuttoning his shirt.  She watched him tug it from his trousers.  Two more buttons and he pulled it apart, slipping it from his broad shoulders.  He rolled it up in a ball and threw it down at his feet.  His jacket was already there.  Eve realised his feet were bare, saw the shiny toe of a shoe peeking out from under the mound of clothes.

Eve traced the ladder of hair down his toned abdomen, watched him pull the flap of his belt from the loop; heard the chink of the buckle.  God, he was lovely.

'We're going to get arrested,' she murmured. 

He looked up and smiled coyly.  She heard the zipper go.  His trousers slumped to his ankles. 

He was wearing tight black briefs.  

'The truth is, we don't know, Eve,' she heard him say.  'We can never know for sure.'  He stepped out of the jumble of clothes.  'People screw each other over every day.'  Ben's hands reached out behind him, holding onto the rail. 'After a week, a month, a year... ten, twenty.'  He climbed up onto the first bar.  'You never can tell,' he said.  'You can never been 100% sure.'

He swung his right leg over, lowering himself down, placing his foot on the ledge, the left one following.

'Don't do this...' she murmured. 

He wouldn't...  He won't... He can't...

He stood on the edge, hanging onto the rail, watching her watching him.  White trainers, frothy black gown, grey hoodie three sizes too big.  Wild dark curls.  Wild dark eyes. 

She looked like a frightened little girl.

He's going to kill himself.  Right in front of me. 

He glanced down at the water. 

I'm not so sure about this...

Was it coming in, or going out?

'Get down Ben, please!  Please don't do this!'

He just looked at her.

'It's like everything in life,' he said.  'There is always an element of risk.  You have to decide, and you alone, whether that risk is worth taking.' 

He smiled.  He turned his back. 

Suddenly, he was gone.

Eve stood there blinking, feet rooted to the spot.

She heard the splash.

This can't be happening!

She threw herself against the cold rail, gripping it, her trainers squeaking on the bar.  The white swell disintegrated,  melting away into ink. 

'Ben!'

The silence was stifling.  Just the gentle trickle of water lapping the legs of the pier.  A seagull screeching somewhere behind.  The gentle thud of bass from the shore.  Her pulse thundering in her ears.

'Ben!'

The bubbles had gone, the water was calm.  It was so far down. 

There was no one to help.  She was on her own.

Why hadn't she stopped him? 

'Ben!'

Should she save him?  Could she save him? 

Eve's eyes darted back into the water. 

She thought she saw something.  It wasn't where he went in.  It was further down. 

Eve squatted down and scooped up the pile of clothes.  They were still warm.  Eve started to run.

Big mistake!  Fucking huge! 

The shock of the cold knocked the air from his lungs.  Ben struggled for breath.  He felt as though there was a vice around his ribs. 

Jesus Christ!

Ben's arms thrashed through the water, his legs kicking hard.  Salt water ripped at the back of his throat, the burn rising up into his nose.  His eyes were stinging.  It was hard to see the lights of the shore.  It was hard to force his eyes open at all, each peek delivering a fresh wave of pain.  He felt his skin starting to burn.  The water was so cold.

Eve's Reeboks smashed down on the pier as she ran alongside him, his clothes bundled up her arms.  He could swim.  He could swim fast.  He was on his back now, eyes closed, arms slashing the water like turbines.  He was showing off.

Oh fuck!

She spotted a security guard.  The back of his head gleamed in the moonlight.

Eve squeaked to a halt.  She looked down at the bundle of clothes. 

...What's this going to look like?
 

She quickly rolled them up in a ball, stuffing it up the front of her hoodie.  She wrapped her arms around her bulging stomach.  Ben was ahead of her now.

'Evening!' she panted cheerily, running past the guy in the dayglow jacket. 

He just stood and stared.

....They're going to call the police.

Ben was tiring.  His limbs grew heavier by the second.  He could feel himself slowing down.  Every stroke required more and more effort.  Carried him a little less further forward.  Every part of him hurt.  It felt like someone had doused him in petrol and set him alight.  Every inch of his skin was on fire.  His teeth felt like they were freezing in his skull.  The crick of his neck was agony.  This wasn't what he'd been expecting.  He and Monique used to swim in the sea all the time - it never felt like this. 

He couldn't see Eve anymore.

'Oi-oi!' called a couple of pissheads.  Eve scooted past them, through the entrance, back onto crazy paving, fleeting past the daytrip vendors' little cabins. 

Eve hammered down the metal steps, panting.  Her feet crunched down into the shingle.  She stopped dead.  She saw him stepping out of the sea. 

Ben shook his head, wiping the water from his face, scraping back his hair.  He looked like something from an Armani Code ad.  All taut and toned.  He was swaggering towards her.

Thank fuck I kept my pants on...

It was all he could do to stay on his feet.

Eve came to a halt about a meter from him, breathless, staring.  She wrenched out the bundle.  His shoe smacked him hard on the chest. 

'I thought you were dead!'

He just stood there, panting, smiling.

'I'm not sure I ever felt so alive!'

Eve was breathing heavily, mouth open, nostrils flared.  Her eyes were ferocious.

She lunged at him. 

Ben grabbed her wrists.  Her feet skidded on the shingle.  Ben kissed her hard on the lips. 

She pushed against him for a second.  Ben felt her relax, her warm arms snaking around his neck. 

His lips were like ice.  He was freezing.  He tasted salty - she could feel it on his skin.  Eve ran her fingers through his cold, wet hair.  She felt him shiver.  Giddily, she stepped back.

'Get dressed,' she said, trying not to look at him, trying to still sound angry.  She reached down and grabbed his trousers, thrusting them into his hands. 

'Let's go home.  Before one of us gets arrested.'

Eve ran into the bathroom and started filling the bath.  She scooted around, grabbing her dirty clothes from the floor, stuffing them into the white wicker basket, ramming the laundry down so that the lid would close.  She quickly checked her hair in the mirrored doors of bathroom cabinet, gave up and scraped it behind her ears. 

'Are you hungry?' she shouted.

'No,' said Ben.  He was standing in the doorway. 

He stood there shivering, desperate to get those cold pants off.  He really, really needed to pee.

'Hang on.'  Eve darted out to the hallway and ferreted around in the airing cupboard for a minute, then handed him a bundle of towels.  She poked her head around the door, glancing at the bath.  It was already halfway up.

'It's OK,' shivered Ben, peering at the mountain of bubbles.  'I think I can take it from here.'

'One sec...' she said, stomping off to the bedroom.  She inspected the dressing gown, gave it a sniff.

'Are you sure I can't get you—'

'Really, I'm fine.' Ben took the dressing gown, smiled politely, and then he closed the door.

Eve kicked off her Reeboks.  The stink drifted up.  She consigned them to the front doorstep.  She lifted the washing up basin out of the sink and climbed up onto the counter.  She turned on the mixer tap, flinching at the cold until the warm filtered through.  Eve squirted a pump of handwash into her palms, massaging her feet in an explosion of suds. 

She was glad she'd painted her toenails.  Lincoln Park it was called.  It was supposed to be dark red, but it came out almost black.  It made her skin look even paler.  She was glad she'd shaved her legs.  Trimmed the topiary.  She paused.  Was it really going to the come to that?

Eve was still pinching herself.  She couldn't quite believe what had happened.  It had been a long time since she'd stripped for a stranger.  Despite the chit-chat, dinner, drinks, smiles, singing, that's all Ben really was.  Years ago, she'd happily pose for a room-full of gangly students.  Eve had never had any qualms about her body.  She smirked to herself, recounting Ben's awkwardness: flickering glances, reddened cheeks, expanding pupils.  He didn't know what to do with himself.  It was good to know she still had it.

She'd expected him to run a mile after her little speech (well, he had, but she'd never imagined he would have taken her with him).

...But sex?  No.  She wasn't so gung-ho about that.  Sex was a different matter, entirely.

Eve reached down to the drawer.  She pulled out the Nicotinell, ripped a patch from the packet, peered down at her bare arms for a moment, her chest.  She hoisted her skirt and slapped it onto her thigh.  Eve tugged out a clean tea towel.  She dried her toes and flung it down, hopping down from the counter.  Mr Bojangles had eaten his dinner.  She found him curled up on her bed.