A Dark Beginning: A China Dark Novel (7 page)

The following morning China’s ankle was so sore that she was hardly able to walk. She decided to stay at home and extend her weekend. Anyway, she thought, it would do her good to stay away from the temptation of the café for a day. Get her thoughts straight. “Sort your life out, China Dark,” she told herself as she sat flicking through the myriad of rubbish that washed mindlessly through daytime television.

Philip had left her stretched out comfortably on the sofa, with a large bottle of water, and an array of snacks within arms reach. He had also jokingly laid an old walking stick next to her. “For the invalid,” he announced. “At your age you have to look after yourself.”

The news channel kept replaying the same cycle of news over and over again. Nothing new to say on each repeat of the same subject, but a brutal, unsubtle hammering home of world events. The standout item of the day, which was inspiring a frenzy of speculation from the excited newsreader, was the discovery of another body in London. It caught China’s attention because the body was found not very far from where she worked, and was the third in a month. The police weren’t yet admitting to these deaths being related but the newsreader had no such qualms, sensationally speculating as to whether there was a serial killer on the loose who was targeting young women in London. As the journalist stood in front of a building China recognized, wind whipping her hair across her news-serious face, she dropped barely veiled hints about each of the three cases and their commonalities. All were women in their twenties or thirties, all very attractive, each of them stabbed to death in a frenzied attack, but with no evidence of sexual assault. One was a young, newly engaged, personal assistant in a local firm, barely in her twenties, who lived at home with her family who were now, rather obviously China thought, “devastated at their loss”. The second body found was a Romanian woman of twenty eight who worked as a waitress in a cocktail bar, (China felt a stab of guilt as the Human League song ran uninvited through her brain), and as a lap dancer. The body found yesterday had been identified but the police were revealing no details until later in the day, revealing only that a family liaison officer was helping the family through this “difficult time”.

China shivered and pulled her thin black cardigan closer around her. These events were too close to easily dismiss. The familiarity of the scenes in the news story brought home the fragility of any assumed safeness. The thin veil of civilization could be shattered by one simple violent act, and when that possibility was just around the corner rather than thousands of miles away, in a different country, it brought a new perspective to life. She felt almost silly thinking it, but she was going to be more careful from now on. More observant. In the past she hadn’t thought twice about walking home in the dark through the supposedly safe streets near her work, or between the rail station and their house. She couldn’t avoid these situations, to do so would be to give in to primordial fear and let the bad guys ‘win’, but she could take a few sensible precautions. She could try to make sure that she was never fully alone after dark whilst out and about, keep with any crowds rather than trying to find the routes that avoided them.

The news program had moved on to the weather now, and China couldn’t help wondering what the girls’ families would be thinking as they sat in a hurricane’s eye of grief while the world moved on to other matters, such as whether or not an umbrella would be needed today.

For a few moments the television news reports droned on as China’s mind wandered. She reached for her bag and rummaged for a nail file. She felt a sharp pain in her finger and pulled out Mark’s business card.

She rejected the thought that she could call Mark, to see what he was up to today. She put that temptation down to boredom. Still, she thought, he would be wondering where she was when she didn’t turn up at the café. She looked at her watch. It would be about now that he’d be sitting alone at the table, sipping his cappuccino. Devak would be looking on seriously of course, but he might also be wondering where China was.

Before she could stop herself she had started to type Mark’s number into her mobile. Her thumb hovered over the call button, but then she changed her mind and selected ‘Message’ instead. She typed in ‘Hi Mark, China here, at home today, ankle too sore to walk far. Thanks for the help yesterday. x’. Then she backspaced to delete the kiss that she had added on auto pilot, and before she could think about it any further she clicked ‘Send’. The second she sent the text she felt horrified. “You idiot. Why did you do that?” she said out loud, disgusted with herself. Earlier she had been telling herself she would be more careful, and now she had just texted a near stranger and revealed her mobile number at the same time. What if he called or texted while Philip was about? What if Philip saw the message on her phone?

Almost immediately her phone chimed and her stomach churned with excitement and dread.

“No worries. See you soon x”

She quickly deleted both messages, smiling, guiltily pleased at that final ‘x’. She felt like a teenager, obsessing over the inane hidden meaning behind a single character in a text message.

Her phone chimed again. It was Mark. There was a single emoticon. An image of a camera. “Click” she thought automatically, picturing Mark raising his hands to mime taking a picture.

“In your dreams” she texted back.

Again, almost immediately, “Of course x”. In her head she could hear his voice singing this in his inimitably arrogant way.

“I don’t think so”

“Shame x”

“Why???”

“You’d make a great model x”

“Don’t be silly”

“Serious x”

China stared at her phone for a second, then in a moment of childish temptation took a quick pouting selfie. Sending the image seemed to take an age, “What like this? ;)”

It was a while before the response chimed back, and her shame at flirting so outrageously grew with each passing minute.

“I can do a better job than that you know x”

“I’m sure you could”

“Then let me…. Please xx”

“I’ll think about it”

The moment after she had sent this last message she regretted it. What was she thinking? She was not going to let this man take pictures of her. That was wrong on so many levels. She waited nervously for a response from Mark but none came. She rather hoped that the message had failed to get through and that she could forget about it.

For the whole of the following weekend she sat at home doing very little but thinking, as her ankle healed. No more surreptitious texts arrived, and she respected Mark for his consideration and restraint, although she couldn’t help feeling a little peeved at the same time that he hadn’t used the excuse of her ankle to drop her at least one or two more surreptitious texts.

In her head she had decided that if Mark wanted to take some pictures of her, that would be fine. A simple portrait. What harm could that do? The trouble with sitting around doing nothing was that she had too much time to ponder and her mind tumbled from chaotic guilt to the rush of excitement. Many wives had portraits taken as presents for their husbands, and this would be no different. The fact that China couldn’t stop thinking about the photographer almost every minute of the day was another thing altogether.

21:33: HornEnvy : I can hardly wait now

21:33: Tarb4u : You won’t have to wait…

21:34: Tarb4u : Not much longer

21:34: Tarb4u : It will be worth it

21:36: Tarb4u : I ruined some bloke’s wife last week

21:36: Tarb4u : She was screaming as I split her in two

21:36: HornEnvy : Jeez

21:37: Tarb4u : And last night I nearly claimed another one

21:37: Tarb4u : She was panting for me

21:37: Tarb4u : Gagging for it

21:39: HornEnvy : Please. Do it soon

21:40: Tarb4u : Lol. Be careful what you wish for. Your life will never be the same again

When she awoke in the cold dawn light on Monday morning China’s mind was resolved. She was ready to face the day and whatever it might throw at her. She didn’t know whether Mark would try and progress the photography situation any further but if he did she was ready to let him take some head and shoulder portrait shots. That was all. She was aware there was some danger attached to this, a stranger who she was so obviously attracted to taking and owning pictures of her, ones that her husband had never seen and didn’t know were being taken. If that became public in any way it would certainly take a little explaining, but China had some ready prepared ideas should that unlikely event ever occur. The photographs were to be a secret present for her husband.

There was no misconception in China as she got ready for work that morning, taking a little extra care with her hair and make-up, carefully selecting her work outfit, one of her best, smart and just the right amount of sexy, just in case.

Later that day China left work a little early to go to the café for her coffee. Devak quietly served her; he seemed so much quieter these days. She had hardly noticed before but today, as he silently brought her drink to her table with only the slightest of polite smiles and the barest nod of the head in acknowledgement, she realized that she hadn’t spoken to Devak in nearly a week. She rested a hand on his arm as he placed the cup on the table.

“Hello, Dev,” she said. “How are you?” She instilled as much kindness and concern in her voice as she could. He looked down at where she was touching his arm, his eyes sad. He withdrew his arm and looked her in the face, regaining his composure.

“I’m fine thank you, lady.” But there was none of the usual friendliness in his tone of voice. Perfect civility of course, but devoid of any emotion other than a barely detectable tinge of melancholy. He withdrew back into the dark recesses of the café, and China felt a stab of sadness herself as if she had just lost something important.

Mark swaggered up at the usual time, the broadest of grins on his face. This annoyed China for reasons she didn’t know at first. Then she realized she was annoyed because the smile was one of knowledgeable arrogance, as if he knew he had won an important point in the game.

“We’re all set up,” he said. “How much time have you got?”

His continued smug grin annoyed China even more, especially as she couldn’t help her body’s reaction to how handsome his smile made him look. Anger and lust were a potent mix.

“Surely you didn’t mean today? Not now?”

“Why not? Do you have to get back?”

“I might. Er, I don’t know. Possibly,” she said, blustering, looking for an excuse but not sure she wanted to actually use one. “I suppose we could do it today, if we’re quick.”

“Hey. Never rush an artist. Come on, you can drink the coffee while we work.”

China stood up a little too eagerly for her own liking, straightening her clothes and throwing some money down on the table to pay for the coffee. She left the cup on the table. After all it wasn’t a take away cup. Mark hadn’t thought of that, she told herself with a touch of resentment. Feeling rather peeved that she wasn’t getting to drink her coffee she let Mark take her hand and pull her reluctantly down the street.

“Where are we going?”

“The landlord of the pub I work at lets me use his upstairs room for my work.”

China stopped dead in the street. “Wait. We’re not doing this outside?”

“No. My work needs full control over light and background.”

China thought about her promise to herself as she had sat watching the news on Friday. Exactly how was this ‘being more careful’? She would be alone with a man she barely knew. But then she reminded herself that she had already been alone with him when he had helped her with her ankle the week before. It wasn’t as if Mark was a killer. That was a ridiculous thought that even the most cautious side of her couldn’t entertain. He had been kind to her the last time they were alone, and he hadn’t taken advantage, although she secretly believed she might have let him if he had tried. Maybe that was what was worrying her, not Mark’s actions, not his strength, not any criminal proclivities he might have, but her weakness of will in his presence. She was potentially putting herself in a situation where she would be sorely tempted to compromise herself. At least in public she knew she wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Mark watched her with interest, and gave the slightest of tugs on her hand. “Come on. I’m sure you’ve not got that long and I’d like to start as soon as possible.”

She finally relented, giving up her futile resistance to his insistent pulling on her hand, and let him lead her towards the pub she’d followed him to that first day. He opened a side door and she was instantly relieved that she didn’t have to walk through the crowded pub, holding hands with one of their barmen. It felt good to be holding his hand, the connection strange and intensely personal.

The door led immediately onto some steep narrow stairs, carpeted in a sticky, red and awfully patterned floral material. At the top of the stairs they turned right and opened a door onto a very large and mostly bare room. In the room there was a bed against one wall, vintage iron and dressed in delicate white. On the opposite wall was a simple white dressing table and chair. Against the wall just to China’s right was a camera on a tripod. It was Mark’s Nikon, and a couple of large flashguns were perched beside it on top of lighting stands, one considerably higher than the other. A large window dressed in lacy net curtains faced out onto the main road and let a generous amount of soft, grey light into the room.

There was a vague aroma of vanilla air-freshener in the room, with a background of beer and damp wood. Not particularly unpleasant, and with the muffled sounds from the pub below she felt comfortably cocooned away from the real world.

China walked slowly into the centre of the room carefully studying the contents. She was surprised at how elegant the room looked, far more than she would expect from a room above a pub. It was quite classical and distinctly arty. She could see in her mind some tasteful black and white pictures being created here. At that thought her mind turned to the subtly erotic picture that hung on Mark’s wall in his flat, and she blushed, knowing perfectly well that the photograph had been taken right here, on this very bed. The thought filled her with a chilly excitement.

“Who is she?”

“Who’s who?”

“The girl on your wall.”

“Oh. That was Zilda. She used to model for me.” He suddenly looked very sad.

“I’m sorry. Was she your girlfriend?”

He laughed awkwardly, but his face was still sad. “No. Well, she was a friend, and she was a girl, but no, not in the way you mean.”

“Oh.” China was puzzled about something but she wasn’t sure what. She continued to survey the room. “Where do you want me to sit?”

“Wherever you’re most comfortable.”

She sat primly down on the chair in front of the dressing table, hands in her lap, uncomfortable at being the subject of attention, knowing that she presented a very stiff and awkward vision.

“Let’s move this shall we?” Mark said lifting and moving her bag over beside him next to the camera. Then he came back over to her and looked at her from different angles, assessing, squinting and adjusting his view, almost scientific in his studies. He nudged the mirror on the dressing table, watching her face as the reflected light changed, then leant down and adjusted her neck scarf slightly, pushing the material down here, up there, but never actually touching her flesh. Every time the silky material moved she felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck, despite the lack of full contact. In just a brief moment he had turned into a cool, calm professional photographer, but she was gradually melting.

“Do you mind?” he asked softly as he gestured towards her hair.

“Go ahead.”

He carefully moved her hair into position, lightly touched her chin with a single finger that sent sparks through her, and lifted her face to just the right angle. He applied gentle pressure to one shoulder to get the angle just right. Everywhere he touched, her body betrayed her desires. She was glad he couldn’t see the rampant waves of gooseflesh as her senses reeled.

“Ok,” he said. “Let’s start.”

When Mark had finished his professional and almost dispassionate titivating he backed away, looking at China the whole time. She sat self-consciously not quite sure what to do with herself.

"What do I do now then?"

"Just sit still for a few test shots. I need to get the lighting right."

He moved the flash guns around, adjusting the height of the lighting stands on which they sat. He then moved behind China and adjusted another flash, which China hadn't noticed was even there.

"There. Let's give that a go."

He switched his Nikon on and peered through the viewfinder, adjusting the lens back and forward. When he pressed the shutter for the first time the flood of sudden light made China jump and blink hard. Starry blooms of green-blue-white light burned into her retina for a few moments. Before they had fully gone he fired off another shot, the high-pitched sound of the flashes warming up between each shot wining in the background.

"You're a blinker!" He said, laughing. "But don't worry, you'll get used to it, and if I take enough shots that will stop. And if it doesn’t we’ll try without the flashes, that’s often better anyway." He was closely checking the screen on the back of the camera.

"Too harsh," he announced. "I think we will go for natural light."

China was relieved that she wouldn't be blinking into the blinding light of the flashes for the rest of the session. Those harsh flashes of light had completely taken her mind off of the lustful sensations that had been plaguing her just minutes before. Mark had been totally unaware of the effect he was having on her, and she was relieved that she now felt more in control. Once Mark switched off the flashes and started to take his pictures China felt herself relaxing a little. She even started to pull some funny faces at the camera which, from the delighted expression on his face, appeared to please Mark.

"That's it, China, work the camera," he joked.

After about ten minutes of this, with Mark slowly moving around her, taking pictures from all angles, some with her looking directly into the lens, some with her looking away, he stood back and spent a few moments checking the back of his camera again.

"May I see?" she asked.

"Not yet. I need to process them, get everything just right. But I've got what I needed for now."

China sat still, a strange feeling of disappointment flowing over her. It was a bit of an anti-climax. She was expecting more pushing from Mark to take pictures that were a little more adventurous. Although she was of course ready to refuse such requests, she was still disappointed that he hadn't at least tried.

"Is that it?" she asked, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"What were you expecting?"

"Nothing. I mean, I didn't know what to expect. I just wondered if that was it." She was struggling to recover from the shame of her own frustration.

"There will be some lovely portraits in this lot," he reassured her.

"I must admit, I didn't know what kind of photographer you were."

"In which case I'm very flattered that you agreed to pose for me. Have I disappointed you?"

China went bright red as the heat of embarrassment flushed her body. He had seen right through her. Again.

"No. Not at all. I just thought... Well. You know. I saw the picture in your room and was worried you were going to ask me to pose, er, like that!"

Mark laughed loudly, the sound rich and booming in the room. "I would love to do a more artistic session with you. But not now."

China bristled at this. "I know I'm no model, but there's no need to be quite so blunt."

Still laughing, Mark responded. "It's not that. You would make a fantastic subject. But you do need to be a little more prepared for a session like that. We'd need more time too. When a woman does a boudoir session with me I have to let her know how to prepare and what to bring."

"Prepare?" China was intrigued now and her embarrassment was disappearing fast as she became interested in what he meant.

"Yes. For example, I suspect you're wearing a bra at the moment?"

"Of course." She could feel herself flushing again, and cursed her blatantly obvious sensitivity.

"In which case the straps will leave marks, indentations on your skin for at least forty minutes. And I suppose you brought some silky underwear with you, of course, or maybe some sexy nightwear?"

"You know what they say about sarcasm. But I do get what you mean."

"Then let's set a date and time and you can come prepared. Not that you'll turn up of course. You'll chicken out."

She knew what Mark was doing. An old trick, but one that might well work nonetheless, especially given that she wanted it to work. anyway

"Go on then. When?"

"I am free most days," he said. "It depends when you can get away from work. You'll need to be able to be here say, an hour beforehand, to let the marks die away from tight clothing, bra straps, seams etc., and then we'll need one to two hours for the photography, given that you'll want to go with two or three changes."