Selfish People Page 9

  ‘Book him!’ yelled Bailey. ‘Where’s the ref? You blind or what?’

  The match continued regardless. The ball hit the post. Bill and Bailey jeered. Leah was falling asleep.

  She woke up with her head on her arm. Outside it was dark. Bill and Bailey were stretched out looking comfortable. The football had finished and they were watching a game show.

  ‘Who won?’ said Leah.

  ‘One all,’ said Bill. She never did discover who the other team were.

  It was hard to find the show as riveting as Bill and Bailey did. She looked around the room. It was tidy but the furniture was shabby. The sofa had an Indian bedspread over it to cheer it up. In one corner was a bicycle upside down and in the other a most impressive collection of records and tapes. There were music posters on the wall and on the mantelpiece a large framed photograph of two men in cycling gear standing proudly by their bikes. One man was Bill.

  ‘Oh that’s Ian,’ said Leah, recognising the other one.

  ‘He was my best mate,’ said Bill as if he’d said it a thousand times.

  ‘He was everybody’s best mate,’ said Bailey, rolling yet another joint.

  Leah got up unsteadily and stepped over the pile of empty cans to find her coat.

  ‘You’re not going?’ said Bill.

  ‘You’re not going,’ said Bailey with emphasis. ‘Bill’s cooking dinner.’

  ‘It’s turnip slop,’ said Bill. ‘Are you a veggie?’

  It wasn’t turnip slop but vegetable pie. The telly was turned off and Bill scanned his music collection. ‘Something vital, I think.’ He chose Tricky, trip hop with a strolling beat.

  ‘I’m well into this,’ said Bailey, gobbling down his pie. Bill jigged about eating his.

  ‘What next?’ said Leah, full and alert if not a bit crumpled. She stood by the window looking at an unwelcoming city.

  ‘Down the local.’ Bailey rearranged his hair into a ponytail.

  ‘Declan coming out?’ said Bill.

  ‘Nah, he’s with Sally. He’s giving her the push.’

  ‘Tears all round.’ And Bill collected the plates. ‘Jen coming out?’

  ‘Nah, she’s with her girlie mates.’ This was the first mention of Jen. Bailey made a disgusted face. ‘Women’s group.’

  ‘Well, they’re not on it,’ said Bill.

  They got ready to the beat of the music. Bailey still fiddling with his hair, adjusting his braces and smoking a joint. Bill’s toilette was simpler: he fuzzed up his bottlebrush hair and sniffed his armpits. ‘Not too bad.’

  Leah tried to straighten her hair with a gap-toothed comb she had just found.

  They plunged into the windy night.

  ‘Well, you didn’t need the comb,’ jeered Bailey as they stumbled in.

  The Woolpack was jammed. Mad Frank and his trumpet were several bars behind the music. Bailey headed straight for the bar. Bill and Leah squashed themselves on to a windowsill. Bailey, at the bar, yelled at the barmaid and greeted the regulars like a noisy tomato. ‘Yo. Simple Simon! Mine’s a pint! Hairy Pete, how’s it going? Rodge the Dodge, wotcha matey!’ The evening had begun.

  Balanced on the windowsill with a crowd of people she didn’t know, Leah got drunk. The clocks in the Woolpack went backwards so it was difficult to tell the time. Bailey sat next to her. ‘You pissed?’ he said with a huge smile.

  ‘Completely,’ said Leah.

  He undid his ponytail and flicked his hair. ‘It’s a bloody good night.’

  ‘Completely,’ said Leah.

  He was bouncing his legs to the music. Their thighs rubbed. He stopped. ‘You’re all right, you are,’ he said. Leah laughed, she could hardly say ‘completely’ to that. Your eyes are so greeny greeny blue I could fall into them.

  ‘What you doing later?’ said Bailey.

  ‘I’m gone, I’ll have to crash.’

  ‘Don’t. Stay on it.’

  ‘Where’s it going now?’ She was still lost in wonderland. The colours and sounds of the pub seemed to be fusing together.

  Bill and the others were going. ‘See ya later!’ yelled Bailey.

  That night with Declan and Bailey … all the trouble it caused, but nothing can cause trouble now because I’m not with Al. She began to laugh.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ said Bailey.

  ‘I’m happy,’ said Leah.

  We’re walking up the road and I’m hanging on to Bailey, the wind and the rain are battering us and the hill is going on for ever, and why am I walking up a hill? But it’s not a hill, but streets and houses and round another corner and another one. It’s Steep Street!

  ‘This is your house.’ And she was on the sofa and Bailey was making tea. He came in with the teapot and the cups but no milk. ‘I’ll get it,’ she said and went to the fridge and opened the door. Every time I open the fridge door he’s doing it in the butter dish.

  She took the milk to the front room and sat down. ‘Um … where’s Declan?’

  ‘Like I said he’s giving Sally the push.’

  She handed Bailey the milk. He was on the sofa. ‘Come here,’ he said and only then did she realise what might be happening. She sat next to him. ‘Drink yer tea,’ he said. But I might be entirely wrong.

  They drank their way through one cup and another.

  ‘I’ve got a problem,’ said Bailey, putting down his cup. ‘The problem is I fancy you.’

  ‘Is that a problem?’ she said faintly.

  He stretched out his arms. ‘When I first saw you I thought, she’s all right, then I thought, nah, she’s married and that, but now …’ and he put his hand on her back.

  ‘I’m still married …’ She turned towards him and he slid his hand to her waist.

  ‘You are all right,’ he said and she stared at him. Chestnut hair. Your red shirt with embroidered braces, an aromatic smell coming from every bit of you.

  ‘You are mega all right.’ He put his hands on her shoulders, on her neck and her face and through her hair and kissed her. Your tongue is in my mouth. You taste sweet, like how you smell, mixed up with beer and fags, but it’s not unpleasant. None of it is unpleasant …

  His hands were now up her shirt and down her back and on her skin. There’s an awful lot of you everywhere and not much of me …

  ‘What’s the probs?’

  ‘I’m not comfortable.’

  ‘Well, let’s get mega comfortable,’ he roared.

  They went upstairs. ‘I’m well into this,’ he said, dashing round his room lighting candles and turning on the fire. Then he was taking off his clothes and folding them in a neat pile on a chair. Leah undressed too, but her knickers got muddled up in her jeans and her socks seemed stuck to her feet. He was already in bed with the covers turned back. The sheets had flowers all over them. Leah, naked, sat next to him. She put her hand on his chest. His body was smooth and almost hairless. He looked fit and well toned and was grinning from ear to ear.

  She climbed into bed and he covered them both with the duvet. He was kissing her, feeling her all over, pushing his fingers into her crevices.

  ‘Wait …’ she said, ‘I’m not … well, I used to, but I got terrible headaches and then as Al and I hardly ever did … I didn’t … and then we didn’t … we must be careful …’

  ‘No probs.’ He rolled over. By the bed was a small box with several drawers. He opened one. It seemed to contain every available sort of condom. He selected one and put it on with a quick flick. ‘Sorted,’ he said.

  He entered her with a look of total concentration on his face. All I can think about is basketballs being thrown into the net, one after the other …

  Bailey was an energetic lover. This way, that way, on her back, on her front, she had been turned over more times than a kipper. Her body was responding with enthusiasm, it was just her mind that was still downstairs saying, I might be wrong … But she wasn’t wrong. Bailey was shagging her heartily. He was now licking her face as though she were a favourite ice-cream.

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nbsp; ‘Do you want to come?’ he said in her ear.

  ‘I’m OK.’ Coming was the last thing she was thinking about.

  ‘Do you mind if I do?’

  ‘Not a bit.’ And he did with three sharp thrusts.

  ‘Phew.’ He tumbled off her. There he lay looking very pleased with himself. ‘Fag?’ And he handed her one. They smoked them. He had an ashtray balanced on his chest. On the ceiling were several mobiles turning slowly and catching the candlelight. Leah was dizzy, what with the drink, the smoke and the sex.

  ‘I’m done in,’ he said, stubbing out his fag and taking Leah’s and stubbing that out too. He rearranged the duvet and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll sleep this side and you sleep there. I can’t sleep if someone’s wrapped round me.’

  She lay there, feeling empty and lost. I’m staring at the darkness and the shapes I don’t recognise. Rain is rattling the windows … two mating cats are wailing at each other … the baby’s crying, is it Al’s turn to get up? … but it’s not Al, it’s Bailey, and it’s not a baby, it’s a cat … and I mustn’t move or I’ll wake the baby …

  When Leah woke the next morning they had somehow managed to move closer and their legs were entangled. She freed herself quietly. Bailey was still dead asleep but she was wide awake. She felt sick-headed and sticky. She longed for a hot bath and a cup of tea. She stared at the mobiles still turning and the unicorn paintings just visible in the growing light.

  Last night is hazy, but what is clear, we bonked … and the repercussions are clear too … What about Jen? What about Al? Oh my God. She curled up tighter under Bailey’s flowery duvet. And now I’m sad, because last night … it’s as if it all happened to somebody else and if there is now going to be a lot of trouble it would have been nice … and her mind which she had last night left downstairs was in bed with her now and connected to her body … all that happened and I didn’t feel a thing.

  I want to hold you now and start it all again, but you look so unapproachable. Our skin is touching. You don’t have the piggy skin of most redheads but it’s a creamy golden colour. You have freckles on your shoulders. Your long face is crumpled up on the pillow.

  Bailey stirred and opened one eye. Then he opened the other. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘Mornin’,’ he said.

  ‘How are you?’ She put her hand on his arm.

  ‘’Orrible.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. He had woken up next to an excited woman.

  ‘Bailey?’ she said, raising herself on one arm. ‘About last night – I mean, it was fine and all that, I mean it was, but you see, I didn’t feel anything.’

  ‘Yer what?’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean physical, but you know, when you really feel it, inside.’ She felt daft. ‘I mean, don’t you ever want that, don’t you ever want to feel, completely.’ She hadn’t felt like that for years but she wanted to now. ‘I mean, Bailey, I was thinking, why don’t we do it again … why don’t we do it now?’

  There was a pause. He sighed and checked to see if he was adequately aroused. ‘Well, if yer must,’ he said. He rolled over and opened the drawer of his bedside box. He lay there inert. Leah kissed him all over. It was obvious he was going to do nothing. She was charged up. She clambered on top of him and her hair fell into his face. He flicked it away. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see his grumpy expression. She eased herself on to him and he assisted, putting his hands on her hips and pushing her down. She closed her eyes tighter. I don’t want to see you or the room or the sheets or anything. I just want to feel, and feel and slam away the deadness inside me, and the blankness, and feel fire and life and feel it and feel it. Bailey was pushing her harder now and stroking her, up her back, and she came and shook her hair to revel in it.

  She opened her eyes. Bailey beneath her looked hot and unsatisfied. His pupils had gone wide and there was no greenness in them; they were black like a shark’s eye. He rolled Leah over in one movement and she felt exactly how much stronger than her he was.

  ‘I want all of you!’ she said.

  ‘You fucking can’t have it.’ He was holding her tighter but not stopping, and looking alarmed as if he couldn’t stop.

  ‘I want your passion, I want your fire.’ She felt out of control herself.

  ‘You’re weird, you are,’ said Bailey but he kissed her, and was licking her cheeks and her neck. He came with a cry into the thin bit of rubber separating them.

  Bailey was trembling and so was she. He rolled off next to her hugging her to steady himself. They stared at each other as if they hadn’t a clue what would happen next. They stayed like that, quiet and awkward. Bailey put his finger on her cheek, it was the only tender gesture he had made towards her. She felt she was going to cry. She put her hand over his finger.

  ‘You’re something else,’ said Bailey and she felt her heart tear open and bleed.

  The phone was ringing. Bailey went to answer it. Leah stayed in bed because it felt safe and she wasn’t feeling safe: not at all. He came back and sat on the end of the bed. He was wearing a green silk dressing gown. He sat there and didn’t look at her.

  ‘That was Jen. She’s coming round later, so you’d better hop it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘What? Now?’

  He didn’t answer. He stood up and got dressed with his back to her. He picked up her pile of clothes and put them on the bed.

  ‘Can I have a bath?’

  ‘Nope.’ He tied back his hair.

  ‘Or a cup of tea?’

  ‘Nope. Where’s your coat?’

  ‘Downstairs.’ And he went to get it. She followed him, doing up her shirt and squashing her feet into her shoes. They met in the hallway by the front door and he handed her the coat.

  ‘What are you going to say to Jen?’ Leah was sandwiched between Bailey and the front door.

  ‘Nuffin.’

  ‘But what about last night?’ She was panicking now.

  ‘I was drunk,’ he said as if it explained everything.

  ‘And this morning …?’

  He reached across her to open the door. Leah caught his arm and they looked at each other. He was angry. ‘Look, Jen’s me girlfriend and you’re not, and I won’t say nothing and you won’t say nothing. Do you get it?’

  Leah got it all right and she was angry now.

  ‘It won’t happen again,’ said Bailey and opened the door.

  At Brewery Lane Clive was watching the telly and eating bacon, eggs and fried bread.

  ‘Ho, ho, dirty stopout!’ he said.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Leah hotly. ‘I stayed at a friend’s and crashed on the sofa.’ And she went upstairs before he could ask her any more questions.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Leah, who had wanted to fill herself with passion, now felt more empty than an empty box. The days tumbled by. Then Sarah phoned. They arranged to meet for coffee in Cotham. At home Leah had been avoiding Clive. At work she was avoiding Bailey, but Sarah was sympathetic and understanding. There was no reason to avoid her.

  Sarah’s and Leah’s children went to school in Cotham. Jo used to go to the local school but he got teased because he had odd parents, but at the school in Cotham everybody had odd parents. Pick-up time resembled a New Age gathering with people swapping shiatsu hints and tofu recipes. Sarah had three daughters, Lily, Jasmine and Rose, who were roughly the same age as Leah’s children. She was an astrological counsellor.

  They met in the Red Café in Cotham. It was a friendly casual place with red tables and chairs, usually filled with students and Bristol bohemians. Sarah was by the window with a big file of charts in front of her. Her hair was wound up in a purple scarf making her look like a gypsy fortune teller. What she saw Leah she smiled and took her hand.

  ‘I’ve been thinking positively about you,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Leah, still feeling battered by the weekend’s events.

 
; ‘Al’s anger must be difficult to cope with.’

  ‘I just feel a bit weak.’

  ‘And your energy levels are uneven.’ She looked at one of her charts. ‘Uranus is on your Mars.’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘You might feel out of control. You might be acting in a wild way.’

  Leah blushed and took a bite out of her bun. ‘Forget me. I’m sick of me. How are you? How’s Chris?’ This was a leading question. Both her ex-husband and current boyfriend were called Chris.

  Sarah put her charts away. ‘It’s terrible,’ she said, looking her most dramatic. ‘One minute it’s on, then it’s off. The other week I made a decision, I told him it was over, I couldn’t handle it, then he burst into tears and said he loved me!’

  Leah smiled. ‘So it’s on.’

  ‘For the moment.’

  ‘And Chris one?’

  ‘We’re not speaking. The girls go to see him for the weekend and all he does is dump them with his girlfriend and go to parties. She feels put upon, I think it’s outrageous and he won’t talk about it. Men!’

  They swapped dreadful husband stories until they were quite hysterical. Sarah’s ex-husband was a journalist. He wore hats and silk scarves. He was highly intelligent, arrogant and selfish. Theirs had been a noticeable relationship. Chris two was more thoughtful, a homoeopathic practitioner who unfortunately couldn’t make up his mind about Sarah. He sat in the corner at parties whereas she would be right in the middle flirting with everyone.

  ‘And how is poor Rachel?’

  ‘She’s gone to her parents. She’s pretty low.’

  Sarah and Rachel had never met although they knew about each other. It was not something Leah had contrived but she felt they might not get on. Sarah’s immediate openness didn’t seem to fit in with Rachel’s cynical and caustic nature.

  It was nearly lunchtime and the place was filling up. Sarah and Leah had been there all morning. ‘Shall we have lunch?’ said Leah.

  ‘I’m supposed to be doing Chris two’s transits … Oh he can wait.’ On the other side of the café a young man nearly tripped over a chair. Sarah was at least five years older than Leah but she had the knack of turning most men into drooling fools. She smiled at him like stardust. ‘When Chris left me I was so distraught, I didn’t look at another man for over a year. Even when I met Chris, it was Chris I still wanted. Do you feel like that about Al?’