Nearest Thing to Crazy (26 page)

‘Don’t worry. But I’d be happy to get something for you. I’ve lit the fire and it’ll soon warm up if you feel like getting up.’

‘Thanks.’

‘That’s all right, babe,’ he said. He sat down on the bed, placed his hand on my head and started stroking it tenderly. I put the tea down on the bedside table and closed my eyes, savouring the feel of his warm palm skimming over my scalp. ‘Poor darling,’ he murmured. He started to massage his hands into my hair and it felt so good I could feel my whole body relaxing against him. His fingers worked with a gentle pressure on my head and down where all the tension had made knots where my neck met my scalp.

‘That’s really good,’ I said.

He was being so kind that I wanted to put off the moment when I’d ask him about lunch with Ellie, because I knew as soon as I did Dan would withdraw from me. I grabbed hold of his arm, scrunching my fingers into the cotton of his shirt sleeve. I wanted things to be normal, I wanted things to be all right. I wanted it all to be some awful dream from which I was now waking up into warm reality. A wave of affection swept over me. My Dan. My husband. My lovely Dan. I loved Dan. But it wasn’t a dream. I couldn’t hold it together any longer. I let out a huge sob.

‘Hey,’ he said. His fingers stopped circling over my head and he leant forward so that he could look at me. ‘What is it? What’s all this? Come on baby, don’t cry. This isn’t going to make that head any better.’

He put his arms right around me, lifting me and pulling me towards him, and then somehow he was lying on the bed beside me. I buried my face against his chest. I sobbed so hard that my breath came in gulps and all the time he kept on stroking me soothingly, murmuring, ‘There, there . . . come on . . . poor Cass . . .’

And then it was spent. The storm had passed. ‘Okay?’ He released me so that he could look at me once more. I was aware of my face being wet, puffy and revolting. I took the handkerchief he offered me and blew my nose noisily.

‘Sorry . . . God . . . sorry . . . poor you . . . not what you were expecting to come home to.’

‘Well no, but hardly poor me – more poor you. Listen, I’m sorry for not being more understanding. I should be more supportive, especially when you’re feeling so vulnerable. But there is stuff we’ve got to sort out . . . stuff we really can’t put off forever . . .’

‘I know. But I’ve just been feeling so tired. I can’t remember when I last got a good night’s sleep and things . . . well . . . I just need to feel a bit stronger, and get things into perspective.’

I
wanted
him to be able to say that yes, I did have everything in perspective, because he
wasn’t
having an affair with Ellie, that he
hadn’t
had an affair with some woman in Rome – and that the postcard was easily explainable . . . and the locked box . . . was that easily explainable too?

‘What things, babe? Do you mean Ellie?’

‘Her. And other stuff. Anyway, Laura texted me, said you had lunch with her.’ I slumped back against the pillows. Dan sat up from his lying position, and handed me the cup of tea.

‘Yep. I took her out with Laura. She was in Birmingham so I had to, I couldn’t not – not with all she’s doing. It was a bit of a thank you.’

‘Was it fun?’ I asked. Dan stood up and untied his tie and threw it towards the armchair. Then he undid his cufflinks and put them on the chest of drawers.

‘It was okay, yeah, fine.’ He undid the first two buttons of his shirt and then unzipped his trousers and slipped them off, lining up the seams before folding them carefully over the chair arm while I watched. ‘I’m just going for a quick shower.’

I nodded, and then I realized that I was slurping noisily on my tea. How attractive.

When he came back into the bedroom he was wearing just a towel around his waist. His hair was damp, and clung to the back of his neck.

‘Feeling any better?’ He sat down on the edge of the bed and took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. I could smell soap and shampoo.

‘A bit,’ I put on a brave smile.

‘That’s good.’

He stood up and started moving about the room, pulling out clean boxers, a T-shirt, jeans from the wardrobe and socks from the drawer. He threw them onto the bed and then unwrapped the towel from his waist so that he was standing naked in front of me. He rubbed the towel around his penis and then down between his legs.

‘You’re watching me,’ he said.

‘Sorry,’ I said, automatically.

‘I’m finding it hard to read your expression . . .’

‘I was miles away . . .’

‘Ah, I just thought you were checking me out.’

‘I like watching you
.
You’ve got a good body.’

‘Thank you. So have you.’

‘Oh Dan,’ I laughed. ‘You’re such an unconvincing liar . . .’ and then I realized what I’d said and so I bit my tongue.

‘Am I?’

‘I . . . er . . . I don’t know . . .’ I could feel tears pricking behind my eyes again. I smiled at him and squeezed my nails into my palm. ‘Yes,’ I confirmed. ‘An unconvincing liar . . .’ Listen to me . . . a convincing liar lying to another convincing liar. ‘Dan,’ I said, ‘We are all right, you and me, aren’t we?’

‘I hope so, babe. I really hope so.’

‘I just feel everything’s getting on top of me right now.’

‘I know, sweetheart. Believe me, I can tell. Do you think it might be an idea to get some pills from the doctor? They might help you sleep, and then you might see things a bit more clearly. Like you said, get things in perspective.’

‘Maybe,’ I said

‘I know what you’d like. Don’t move.’ He put his hand up to emphasize his command and then disappeared out of the bedroom for a few moments before reappearing clutching a small blue bottle: Juniper warming oil from Neal’s Yard. ‘A massage. Hmm? How would you feel about that?’

‘Are you sure?’ Dan hadn’t offered me a massage for
years.

‘You’ll have to take your top off – get rid of that blouse thing – and turn onto your tummy. Make yourself comfortable and available, Mrs Burton!’

He poured the oil into his palms and warmed it before spreading it over my shoulders and down my back, and then finally slid his hands inside my pants, and over the curves of my buttocks. Then he worked his way up to my shoulders once more. He stroked in slow circular motions, soothing and caressing, like he was talking to me through his hands. I felt all the tension drifting away from me. My body felt heavier as it began to relax, sinking deeper into the mattress. I don’t know at what point Dan sensed the change in me, but I became aware of a change in the way he was stroking me, moving his attention away from my muscles and onto other parts of my body. Suddenly he tugged on my pants and slipped them over my bottom, down my legs and then pulled them off my feet. My body tensed as I wondered what he would do next. He started working on my buttocks once more, his fingers squeezing and kneading, and then they began to probe between my cheeks. I wasn’t sure that I really wanted him to slide his fingers into those places but, as his stroking grew more insistent and rhythmical, it became impossible to ignore the delicious feelings of sensuousness which were flooding through me. I kept my eyes closed all the time, partly because I almost wanted to pretend that I was someone else, because I felt self-conscious and not fully able to let myself go with him, and by inhabiting the darkness behind my eyelids, I could leave ‘me’ behind. But as his hands delved deeper, the ripples of pleasure spread out, lapping like waves against the edges of my mental resistance. My breathing became shallower and faster and I rolled onto my back, twisting my head back into the pillows.

Just when I felt I knew exactly what would happen next, he put his hand against my hip and pushed it firmly, rolling me back onto my tummy once again. I felt his leg straddle mine, slotting it between my legs, nudging my legs open. Next he had his hands underneath my pelvis, hoiking me upwards onto my knees. He paused for a moment and I sensed he was looking at me. ‘Oh God . . .’ he murmured and I knew now what he wanted. I felt the hot tip of him gently exploring against me, sliding it up and down, almost teasingly, and then he thrust into me so hard that I cried out and almost collapsed back onto the bed. But he kept a firm hold on my hips, pulling me back towards him, keeping his body upright so that he could drive deeper and harder. Each time he slammed into me I yelped. He was so deep that I could feel my insides bruising but the pain felt good and, besides, I couldn’t have stopped him. It had been a long time since we’d fucked like this. He had driven me up the bed so that my head was level with the headboard. I lifted myself up slightly, placing my hands on the top of the wooden panel. Then I felt Dan’s hand slip over my shoulder so that he could brace my body harder against his. His fist formed a claw which began to dig into my collar bone. His fingers got nearer to the flesh of my throat and then he started to squeeze the soft tissue, making me choke for breath. I levered my hands against the headboard to give me strength to jerk my head so that his hand released slightly, and then I coughed his name, ‘Dan . . . Dan . . . Dan . . . you’re strangling me . . .’

Almost as soon as the words were out he exploded, as if the thought of strangling me had pushed him over the edge . . . ‘Oh fuck . . . !’ he cried, ‘Fuck, Cass, oh God . . . !’ and then he collapsed down onto my rump. He was too heavy and my knees were trembling, and so I leaned sideways, tipping us both onto the bed. He slipped out of me and murmured ‘Oh shit . . . !’

Afterwards we lay like spoons, with Dan cradling me in his arms, and dropping light kisses on the top of my head. ‘That was amazing . . . you’re amazing.’

I sighed, ‘Am I?’ Every time a negative thought stalked me I tried to shoo it away. It didn’t matter that Dan’s aggression had smothered my own pleasure. It didn’t matter that I’d felt like a sex object, rather than a loved wife. As we lay there, just holding each other, I told myself that this was what it felt like to be loved. I wasn’t going to think about the postcard, or Rome, or Ellie. I felt safe now. It was me that my husband had just made love to, me that was here, wrapped safely in his arms. Maybe I could save our marriage by locking away all my bad feelings and just get on with the business of our life. That woman was not going to come between us. I wouldn’t let her. All I needed to feel secure was for Dan to be loving and attentive, and that’s what he was being, tonight. I didn’t want to leave him or, more to the point, him to leave me. Life without him would be miserable. I’d be so lonely. And the thought of what it would do to Laura was just unimaginable. For all I knew she’d choose to live with Dan and then I’d be completely on my own – no husband, no family, maybe no friends. What was preferable, this lovely space with Dan, right now, or being torn apart by things which might exist only in my imagination? Not really a tricky question.

After a while Dan rolled away from me. I opened my eyes drowsily. He threw the sheet back and got out of bed.

‘You’re going?’

‘I’ve got a few things to do downstairs. I might get a sandwich. Why don’t you come down and join me? You should eat something. How about I make you my special egg mayonnaise?’

‘Sounds irresistible.’

I joined him about fifteen minutes later, after I’d had a quick shower and wrapped myself into my dressing gown. He was busy at the sink, peeling boiled eggs. He glanced round, ‘Hi.’

‘Hi. Glass of wine?’ I went to the fridge and opened it, checking in the door for the white wine left over from last night. ‘Funny,’ I said.
‘I could have sworn there was some wine left in here. Maybe you finished it?’

‘Cass . . .’ Dan put the egg down and turned around to face me.
‘There’s two empty bottles by the back door.’

‘Two?’

‘Yep. Two.’

‘But I didn’t drink two bottles last night . . .’

‘Well I don’t know how else they could have got there.’

‘From the night before?’

‘No, because I put that one in the recycle bin before I left for work on Tuesday.’

‘I know I didn’t finish the bottle. I remember putting it in the fridge last night, honestly. And I certainly didn’t work my way through a second one.’

Dan shrugged. ‘Whatever . . .’ he obviously didn’t believe me.
‘Might explain why you’d got a headache.’

‘I promise you I didn’t.’

‘I spoke to Mum today.’

‘And? Oh, I know what you’re going to say . . .’

‘That she thought you’d been drinking?’

‘Well I had. I told you. And I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I was upset . . . after what happened the night before.’

‘Listen, babe.’ He came over to me and wrapped his arms around me, and then kissed the top of my head. ‘I think you should go to the doctor’s, have a chat. Tell him you’re feeling low. If you felt a bit less vulnerable you might cut down on the old drinking, eh? There’s no shame in it, sweetheart, not when you decide to tackle it. Hey?’

‘But I don’t understand. Honestly, Dan.’ Was it possible that I didn’t remember? That I’d had some sort of blackout?

‘Don’t worry, babe. Everything’s okay, it’s all right. We just don’t want you getting ill again, do we?’

‘I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am.’ I sat down at the table and watched him while he buttered the bread, whisked mayonnaise, salt and pepper into the smashed egg. ‘Tell me about lunch.’ I tried to sound as normal as possible, because I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere by attacking him or accusing him.

‘Ellie’s promising Laura all sorts of opportunities, which I’m pleased about. She’s suggesting she organizes some kind of internship for her. But . . . I don’t know . . .’ his voice trailed off and he remained silent.

‘What?’ I asked after I realized he wasn’t going to continue.

‘Oh, nothing.’

‘Go on.’

‘There’s just something. Oh, I don’t know. Take no notice of me.’

‘No. What? Tell me.’

‘Oh, it’s just, I don’t know what I mean, really. It’s just the way Ellie seems so terribly keen on being involved . . . I’m not sure I’m really comfortable about it . . .’

‘I think there’s something frightening about her.’ I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady.