按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
crossed to her and put his fingertips on her lower back； and ran them up her spine。
〃Charmaine。〃 She looked at him in the mirror again…the first unswerving look she'd granted him since he'd arrived at the house…and he knew that any hope of physicality between them was a lost cause。
〃I'm not available； Marty；〃 she said plainly。
〃We're still married。〃 〃I don't want you to stay。 I'm sorry。〃 That's how she'd begun this meeting： with 〃I'm sorry。〃 Now she wanted to finish it in the same way； no genuine apology intended； just a polite brush…off。
〃I've thought about this so often；〃 he said。
〃So have I；〃 she replied。 〃But I stopped thinking about it five years ago。 It won't do any good； you know that as well as I do。〃 His fingers were now on her shoulder。 He was sure there was a charge in their contact； a buzz of excitement exchanged between her flesh and his。 Her nipples had hardened； perhaps the draft from the landing； perhaps his touch。
〃I'd like you to go；〃 she said very quietly； looking down into the sink。 There was a tremor in her voice that could easily bee tears。 He wanted tears from her； shameful as it was。 If she wept he'd kiss her to console her； and his consolation would harden as she softened； and they'd finish up in bed； he knew it。 That was why she was fighting so hard to show nothing； knowing the scenario as well as he did； and determined not to leave herself open to his affection。
〃Please；〃 she said again； with indisputable finality。 His hand dropped from her shoulder。 There was no spark between them； it was all in his mind。 All ancient history。
〃Maybe some other time。〃 He muttered the cliché as if it were poisoned。
〃Yes；〃 she said； pleased to sound a note of conciliation； however lame。 〃Ring me first though。〃 〃I'll let myself out。〃
23
He wandered around for an hour； dodging hordes of schoolchildren returning home； picking fights and noses as they went。 There were signs of spring； even here。 Nature could scarcely be bountiful in such restraining circumstances； but it did its best。 In tiny front gardens； and in window boxes； flowers blossomed； the few saplings that had survived vandalism showed sweet green leaves。 If they survived a few more seasons of frost and malice they might grow large enough for birds to nest in。 Nothing exotic： brawling starlings at best； probably。 But they'd offer shade in high summer； and places for the moon to sit if you looked out your bedroom window one night。 He found himself full of such inappropriate thoughts…moon and starlings…like an adolescent first in love。 ing back here had been a mistake； it had been a self…inflicted cruelty that had hurt Charmaine too。 Useless to go back and apologize； that would only make matters messier。 He'd ring her； as she'd suggested； and ask her out to one farewell dinner。 Then he'd tell her； whether it was true or not； that he was ready for them to part permanently； and he hoped he'd see her once in a while； and they'd say goodbye in a civilized fashion； without enmity； and she'd go back to whatever life she was making for herself； and he'd go to his。 To Whitehead； to Carys。 Yes； to Carys。
And suddenly tears were on him like a fury； tearing him to pieces； and he was standing in the middle of some street he didn't recognize； blinded by them。 Schoolchildren buffeted him as they ran past； some turning； some seeing his anguish and yelling obscenities at him as they went。 This is ridiculous； he told himself； but no amount of name…calling would halt the flow。 So he wandered； hand to face； into an alley； and stayed there till the bout passed。 Part of him felt quite removed from this burst of emotion。 It looked down； this untouched part； on his sobbing self； and shook its head in contempt for his weakness and confusion。 He hated to see men cry； it embarrassed him； but there was no gainsaying it。 He was lost； that was all there was to it； lost and afraid。 That was worth crying for。
When the flow stopped he felt better； but shaky。 He wiped his face； and stayed in the backwater of the alley until he'd regained his posure。
It was four…forty。 He'd already been to Holborn and picked up the strawberries； that was his first duty when he drove into town。 Now； with that done； and Charmaine seen； the rest of the night sprawled in front of him； waiting to be pleasured。 But he'd lost a lot of his enthusiasm for a night of adventure。 In a while the pubs would open； and he could get a couple of whiskies inside him。 That would help rid him of the twitches in his stomach。 Maybe it would also whet his appetite again； but he doubted it。
To occupy the time before opening； he wandered down to the shopping precinct。 It had been opened two years before he was put inside； a soulless warren of white tiles； plastic palms； and flashy； up…market shops。 Now； almost a decade after it was built； it looked about ready for demolition。 It was scarred with graffiti； its tunnels and stairways filthy； many of its shops closed up； others so bereft of charm or custom surely the only option open to the owners was to fire them one of these nights； collect the insurance and run for the hills。 He found a small newsstand manned by a forlorn Pakistani； bought a packet of cigarettes and retraced his steps to The Eclipse。
It was just past opening time； and the pub was almost deserted。 A couple of skinheads were playing darts； in the lounge bar somebody was celebrating： an off…key chorus of 〃Happy Birthday； Dear Maureen；〃 drifted through。 The television had been turned up for the early…evening news； but he couldn't catch much of it over the noise of the celebrants； and wasn't that interested anyway。 Collecting a whisky from the bar he went to sit down； and began to smoke his way through the pack of cigarettes he'd bought。 He felt drained。 The liquor； instead of putting some spark into him； only made his limbs more leaden。
His thoughts drifted。 Free association of ideas brought images into peculiar munion。 Carys； and him； and Buddy Holly。 That song； 〃True Love Ways；〃 playing in the dovecote； while he danced with the girl in the chilly air。
When he shook the pictures from his head there were new customers at the bar； a group of young men making enough noise； braying laughter mostly； to blank out both the sound of the television and the birthday party。 One of them was clearly the hub of the entertainment； a lanky； rubber…jointed individual with a smile wide enough to play Chopin on。 It took Marty several seconds to register that he knew this clown： it was Flynn。 Of all the people he'd thought he might run into on this turf； Flynn was just about the last。 Marty half…stood； as Flynn's glance…an almost magical coincidence…roved the room and fell on him。 Marty froze； like an actor who'd forgotten his next move； unable to advance or retreat。 He wasn't sure he was ready for a dose of Flynn。 Then the edian's face lit up with recognition； and it was too late for retreat。
〃Jesus fucking Christ；〃 said Flynn。 The grin faded； to be replaced； momentarily； with a look of total bewilderment； before returning…more radiant than ever。 〃Look who's here； will you？〃 and now he was ing toward Marty； arms outspread in wele； the loudest shirt man had ever created revealed beneath the well…cut jacket。
〃Fucking hell。 Marty！ Marty！〃 They half…embraced； half…shook hands。 It was a difficult reunion； but Flynn blustered over the cracks with a salesman's efficiency。
〃What do you know？ Of all people。 Of all people！〃 〃Hello； Flynn。〃 Marty felt like a dowdy cousin in front of this instant joy machine； all quips and color。 Flynn's smile was immovably in place now； and he was escorting Marty across to the bar； introducing the circle of his audience （Marty caught half of the names； and could put faces to none of them）； then it was a double brandy for everyone to celebrate Marty's homeing。
〃Didn't know you were out so soon；〃 Flynn said； toasting his victim。 〃Here's to time off for good behavior。〃 The rest of the party made no attempt to interrupt the master's flow； and took instead to talking among themselves； leaving Marty at Flynn's mercy。 He'd changed very little。 The style of the clothes； of course； that was different： he was dressed； as ever； as last year's fashions demanded； he was losing hair too； receding at quite a rate； but apart from that he was the same wisecracking faker he'd always been； laying out a sparkling collection of fabrications for Marty to inspect。 His involvement with the music business； his contacts in L。A。； his plans to open a recording studio in the neighborhood。 〃Done a lot of thinking about you；〃 he said。 〃Wondered how you were getting on。 Meant to visit； but I didn't think you'd thank me for it。〃 He was right。 〃Besides； I'm never here； you know？ So tell me； old son； what are you doing back？〃 〃I came to see Charmaine。〃 〃Oh。〃 He seemed almost to have forgotten who she was。 〃She OK？〃 〃So…so。 You sound as if you're doing well。〃 〃I've had my hassles； you know； but then who hasn't？ I'm all right though； you know。〃 He lowered his voice to the barely audible。 〃The big money's in dope these days。 Not grass； the hard stuff。 I handle cocaine mostly； occasionally the big H。 I don't like to touch it 。 。 。 but I've got expensive tastes。〃 He pulled a 〃what a world this is〃 face； turned to the bar to order more drinks； then talked on； a seamless train of self…inflation and off…color remarks。 After some initial resistance Marty found himself succumbing to him。 His tide of invention was as irresistible as ever。 Only occasionally did he pause to ask a question of his audience； which was fine by Marty。 He had little he wanted to tell。 It had always been that way。 Flynn the rude boy； fast and smooth； Marty the quiet one； the one with all the doubts。 Like alter egos。 Simply being with Flynn again Marty could feel himself flung into sharper relief。
The evening passed very quickly。 People joined Flynn； drank with him； and wandered off again； having been entertained by the court jester for a while。 There were some individuals Marty knew among the traffic of drinkers； and a few unfortable encounters； but it was all easier than he'd expected； smoothed on its way by Flynn's bonhomie。 About ten…fifteen he ducked out for a quarter of an hour…〃Just got to sort out a little business〃…。and came back with a wad of money in his inside pocket； which he immediately began to spend。
〃What you need；〃 he told Marty when they were both awash with drink； 〃what you need is a good woman。 No…〃 he giggled； 〃…no； no； no。 What you need is a bad woman。〃 Marty nodded； his head felt unstable on his neck。 〃You got it in one；〃 he said。
〃Let's go find us a lady； eh？ Shall we do that？〃 〃Suits me。〃 〃I mean； you need pany； man； and so do I。 And I do a bit of that on the side； you know？ I've got a few ladies available。 I'll see you all right。〃 Marty was too drunk to argue。 Besides the thought of a woman…bought or seduced； what the hell did it matter？…was the best idea he'd heard in a long while。 Flynn went away； made a telephone call； and came back leering。
〃No trouble；〃 he said。 〃No trouble at all。 One more drink； then we'll hit the road。〃 Lamblike； Marty followed his lead。 They had one more drink together； then staggered out of The Eclipse and around the corner to Flynn's car； a Volvo that had seen better days。 They drove for five minutes to a house on the estate。 The door was opened by a good…looking black woman。
〃Ursula； this is my friend Marty。 Marty； say hello to Ursula。〃 〃Hello； Ursula。〃 〃Where's the glasses； honey？ Daddy bought a bottle。〃 They drank some more together； and then went upstairs； it was only then that Marty realized Flynn wasn't going to leave。 This was intended to be ménage à trois； like the old days。 His initial disquiet vanished when the girl began to undress for them。 The drink had taken the edge off his inhibitions； and he sat on the bed encouraging her in her strip； dimly aware that Flynn was probably as much entertained by his evident craving as he was by the girl。 Let him watch； Marty thought； it's his party。
In the small； badly lit bedroom Ursula's body looked sculpted from black butter。 In between her full breasts a small gold cross lay； glistening。 Her skin glistened too； each pore was marked with a pinprick of sweat。 Flynn