Chris Cleave Ebook Boxed Set (59 page)

—I think I’d rather have vodka, she said. Do you still have some?

—Yeah. Only I didn’t have you down as a morning drinker.

—It isn’t the morning yet, said Petra. I haven’t slept.

I poured Petra a vodka from the freezer. I felt poorly just looking at it but Petra knocked it straight back and passed me the empty glass.

—Ouch, she said. Again.

I poured her another and we went into the lounge and sat down at different ends of the sofa. Petra looked out at Barnet Grove through the net curtains. Those 3 kids were out there on their bikes again turning slow circles just like they were on May Day it made me nervous.

—The really stupid thing, said Petra. Is that I never really cared about Jasper. Until I realised he was slipping away from me.

I didn’t say anything.

—It’s awful of course, she said. Not really to feel anything about someone until one’s faced with losing them. I suppose you think that’s awfully selfish.

—Nah. I don’t think. I mean I don’t really have the imagination do I?

Petra smiled. She was still looking out the window.

—You can be terribly dry can’t you? she said.

I just gave her a small shrug she couldn’t see on account of her
back was turned. I sat there hugging one of the sofa cushions I was getting another wave of my hangover and it was best not to move around too much.

—It hasn’t been the same between Jasper and me since May Day, said Petra. I don’t know whether to blame you or Osama bin Laden. I don’t know which of you is worse.

—Yeah. Well. Have you talked to Jasper about it?

—Jasper’s not in a good place right now, said Petra. He’s been overdoing it. He’s not easy to talk to.

—You’d better give it a go though eh?

Petra was still looking out the window. You could see her back going all stiff and angry and when she spoke her voice was shaking.

—How dare you? she said. How dare you tell me what I better had and better hadn’t do? You’re the one that’s got my Jasper into this state. You’re the one chasing after him with your cute little tush and your sweet little sob story.

Petra stood up and spun round to face me.

—You parasite, she said. Just because your sad little life is over doesn’t give you the right to come after mine.

—You’re having a laugh aren’t you? I’ve seen how you live and I’d rather die.

—Hah, said Petra. Look at me and tell me you weren’t with Jasper yesterday evening.

—That’s not what I’m saying.

—Slut, whispered Petra.

She slapped me round the face it was hard and vicious. I didn’t see her hand coming and it caught me half round the chin and half in the throat it snapped my head back so I heard the bones in my neck click. I fell back on the sofa I was holding my face but it didn’t hurt I was just thinking how strange this is how very bloody strange. How strange to of been around so many blokes in my life and some of them real mischievous pieces of work at that and would you believe it the very first person to slap me about is the Lifestyle editor of the
Sunday
effing
Telegraph
. Well I couldn’t help it
Osama I just started laughing I mean you’d probably be the same yourself if after everything you’ve been through the first person to get past all your bodyguards and storm into your high mountain cave was wearing maroon stiletto boots and lipstick. I took my hand away from my face and there was blood on it. I suppose I was cut from the rings on Petra’s fingers. I just lay back on the sofa and laughed with the blood dripping off my face and onto my white T-shirt.

—You really are a lunatic aren’t you? said Petra. You think this is funny?

—Listen Petra you’ve said your piece now why don’t you just clear off.

—I am not budging, said Petra. Not until you promise never to have anything to do with Jasper again.

—Petra. Just listen for once will you? Jasper’s the one chasing me. I hide from him. I sneak home and stay here with the lights off and when he comes knocking I keep the door shut.

Petra shook her head and frowned.

—What I don’t understand, she said, is what on earth Jasper sees in you.

She spread her arms out.

—I mean look at this place. This horrendous little place. Is it the squalor he gets off on? Because I could do squalor. Or is it the drudgery? Would he become besotted with me if I gave up one of the best jobs in British media and started doing. I don’t know. Whatever the hell it is you do?

—Tea. I make the tea and I do a bit of filing.

—Super, said Petra. How thrilling for both of you. The conversations you must have.

—Give it a rest will you?

—Or is it simply you? said Petra. Is it your nice little tits and your sad little eyes and your darling Lady Di hair? Because I can do the tits and I can do the eyes and I can do the hair. I can do it all. You think I’m joking? You want to see me do the hair?

Petra ran out of the lounge and into the kitchen. I heard her
smashing about in the drawers and when she came back in she was carrying the kitchen scissors. She held them up to her lovely long shiny hair.

—No. Petra. Please. That’s enough now.

Petra started cutting away at her hair thwack thwack thwack. There was gold hair falling all over the carpet and Petra was shouting THERE! THERE! THAT’S HOW HE LIKES IT IS IT? THERE! I couldn’t stop her she was in a rage and I wasn’t going to go near her while she had those scissors. So I just did like they do in the nature films when they get some wild animal going off like that. They just hop up on the roof of the Land Rover and stay up there till it’s safe again. I just went round the back of the sofa and let Petra get on with it and when she was finished she let the scissors fall down on the carpet and she stood there trembling and looking like the things you want to forget about the 1980s. Actually I suppose what I mean Osama is the things we want to forget like Duran Duran and the Thompson Twins not the things you want to forget like the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. Anyway my point is I was safe round the back of the sofa.

Petra started grabbing things and throwing them at me. She picked up my husband’s football trophy from the time his lot beat the Flying Squad and she slung it and I ducked and it smashed against the wall behind me. The next thing she grabbed was an ashtray and she threw that too and it caught me on the arm and rolled off into the kitchen. I was getting scared on account of I was still weak from the hospital and it didn’t look like Petra was going to stop till she’d done for me. She was just grabbing up any old thing she could find and slinging it at me and shouting HARLOT FLOOZY JEZEBEL BITCH and then suddenly she stopped very still on account of she’d picked up Mr. Rabbit.

She stopped with her arm raised up ready to throw him and then she saw what she had in her hand and she just froze. There was something about Mr. Rabbit you see Osama. You wouldn’t of had the heart to chuck him. Anyone could tell he’d suffered enough.
Like I say he was stained black with my boy’s blood and one of his paws was blown off and you could see the scars on him where his skin had burned through and his stuffing had roasted brown and hard as crackling. When Petra saw what she had in her hand she let out this little scream. Just a tiny surprised scream like the blip the scanner makes at the supermarket when it sees the bar code on your beans. Petra let her arm drop very slow and careful. She sank down on her knees and she laid Mr. Rabbit down on the floor in front of her very gentle in the middle of all her cut-off hair and then she just knelt there looking at him like she was in a daze.

I came round from the back of the sofa and I knelt down next to her and I put my arm round her shoulders. Petra was burning hot I could feel it through her jumper it must of been the vodka.

—This is all real isn’t it? said Petra. This is all really happening.

—Yeah.

—We can’t go back, she said. We can’t go back.

—Nah.

Petra raised her head up and looked around the lounge.

—Shit, she said. I’m sorry about the mess.

—You’re alright.

She looked at me.

—Your poor face, she said.

—Yeah well I’m going to wash it.

I went into the bathroom and filled the basin. It took a long time to get the blood off. After a bit Petra came and stood behind me and she stared at her new haircut in the mirror. She couldn’t work it out.

—It’s appalling, she said. No. No. It’s sexy and audacious. Um. No. Tell me honestly. It’s horrid isn’t it?

—It just needs neatening up. Do you want me to do it? I used to do both my chaps’ hair there’s not much to it.

—Do you really think you can fix it? she said.

—Do you really think I can make it worse?

Petra sniffed and went off to fetch the scissors and I sat her down on the edge of the bath and neatened her up a bit. I stuck my tongue
out I always do that when I concentrate. It was nice cutting her hair it felt nice to have something to do. When it was done I stepped back and had a good look.

—There. That’ll get you as far as the hairdresser’s anyway.

—Thank you, said Petra.

She stood up to look in the mirror but she stood up too quickly and I had to grab her to stop her falling. She leaned on the basin.

—Oh dear, she said. I think I’d better lie down.

I held on to her arm and took her into the bedroom. She wasn’t too steady and the vodka on her breath was dragging my hangover back up from my stomach. The wardrobe was open in the bedroom and Petra’s mouth went wide when she saw inside. She lurched over and held herself up on the wardrobe door.

—Oh good god, she said. Why do you torture yourself like this? You ought to take all of this to a charity shop.

—Oh no. I couldn’t give my husband’s clothes away. They’re all I’ve got left of him.

—I didn’t mean his clothes, said Petra. I meant yours.

She started grabbing stuff out of the wardrobe and chucking it on the floor.

—Oh for goodness sake, she said. You’re a grown-up woman. Puma no. Kappa absolutely no. Nike. Gap. Reebok. NEXT. No. No. No. NO. Adidas a tentative yes but only for actually running in. Do you actually run in these?

—Nah. I don’t have the energy for running. I couldn’t run a bath.

—Right then, said Petra. Adidas no.

She threw my Adidas trackies on the floor with the rest of my stuff. Then she had a look at what was left on my side of the wardrobe. She held up my brown H&M skirt and wrinkled her nose.

—Alright, she said. I’ll let you keep this for schooldays so long as you never tell a living soul I said you could.

I smiled.

—Look at you, she said. You’d scrub up just fine if you took a little more care over what you wore.

—Yeah well when you have kids you give up on wearing anything smart don’t you? I mean not if you don’t want choc-chip sprayed all up it.

Petra took my wrist and put her other hand on my cheek and swayed so her face came very close to mine.

—Yes, she said. But you don’t have kids do you?

—That’s enough. Let’s get you lying down.

I shoved her towards the bed and she fell down face first on it with those stiletto boots sticking out over the end. She closed her eyes and groaned and her voice came out very slow.

—I’m not tired, she said. I just need a moment.

—That’s alright you just have a little rest you’ll be right as rain.

—What happened with Jasper last night? she said.

—Why don’t you ask him?

—Why don’t you tell me?

I just shrugged I was looking out the window. I was watching these nice white clouds blowing high above the balloons in the bright blue sky. There was a whole pack of them headed east out towards Stratford way and it looked like they were going to drift on and on all day. Not a care in the world those old clouds. I thought of them drifting till the city disappeared and then just floating on over the mooing cows and the buttercups. And when they saw the estuary mud underneath all speckled with gulls I supposed they’d just carry on drifting out over the flat grey sea.

When I turned back from the window Petra was asleep. She had her hands under her face palms down. I took off her boots for her and she mumbled something in her sleep it sounded like I thought I told you no anchovies in the salad. I rubbed my eyes. My hangover was pulling me down like the concrete lump they tie on when they want your body to sink. I lay on the bed next to Petra and watched her sleeping for a bit with her face all scrunched up on her hands. Then I fell asleep too and in my dream I was drifting over the estuary and out to sea. When I woke up the clouds were thicker out the window and Petra was still asleep and her hand was holding on to
my wrist very gentle. I stayed still so as not to wake her and I must of drifted off because when I opened my eyes again the sky was overcast and the bed was empty beside me.

* * *

It rained for 6 whole days. London was a city on a lukewarm rinse cycle there was water everywhere. The Central Line flooded and Bethnal Green Road ran brown as the Thames and the pigeons sat down in doorways all sulky and wet and they didn’t even bother flying off any more when you went near them. It was summer Osama what can I say?

I went to work in the rain and I came home in the rain. I did it again and again all week. Every day was the same except Wednesday there was thunder and Thursday it just rained harder instead. The wallpaper peeled in the flat and I couldn’t be bothered to go down the shops so I just ate what was in the freezer and when the freezer was empty I started on the Cup-a-Soup.

On the Friday I went down the pub again with Terence Butcher but it wasn’t the same. The crowd in the Approach was moody as the pigeons. I had so much Cup-a-Soup in my system the G&T tasted like minestrone. Terence was just banging on and on about caravans so I told him can’t you give it a bloody rest? We had words and I smashed my glass on the table and walked home through the rain with my clothes wet through and sticking to me. Back home I lay in the lounge in my bra and pants with the telly off just listening to the rain.

I was still on the couch when I woke up. There was this shocking bright light shining through the window I couldn’t remember anything like it. After a bit I worked out it was the sun. I stood up and opened the window and looked at Barnet Grove drying out with the steam coming off it and all the motors sparkling like new.