Swan (6 page)

‘Of course he’s interested. Sometimes you should
listen to your big sister. Trust my intuition, Mads. David is just what you
need to break this self-imposed drought of yours.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Look, my lunch’s almost over.
I’ve got to go.’

‘Just remember what I said. Don’t let me down.’

Beth was utterly incorrigible. Still, despite my
protestations, I was secretly pleased to hear my sister speak so highly of
David. It helped to harden my resolve. Yes, I would see him again. Had
to see him again – at the very
least to thank him for defending my honour.

I decided to buy him a gift.

But what? I really didn’t know the man that well. I
knew that he was into photography, so perhaps something associated with that?
But then again, I was hopeless with electronics - I wouldn’t even know where to
begin. What I needed to get him was something that would subtly show my
appreciation without looking too desperate.

Aftershave perhaps? No, he didn’t look the sort.

Odour eaters? I smiled in spite of myself.

In the end, I decided to bake him a coffee and
walnut cake. It was one of my specialities and always went down a treat at work
dos. Baking was my forte, so it would also be a chance to show him that I too
had a creative side. Plus, my mother always said that the way to a man’s heart
was through his stomach.

So after work, I stopped by Sainsbury’s to pick up
the additional ingredients I needed: mascarpone, caster sugar and walnuts. I
also grabbed a cheeky bottle of Tia Maria to make it extra special. A little
booze in the filling never hurt anyone, I thought. Then I spent the rest of the
evening beating, mixing and blending the base to perfection. I was quite
pleased with the finished result. An early sample of the icing told me that
this was one of my better attempts. Not the best, mind you, but certainly as
good as anything you would buy at an upmarket baker’s. When I was satisfied
that my light and fluffy creation was complete, I put it in the fridge and left
it overnight. I found that my cakes always tasted better when the sponge had
been given enough time to properly absorb the alcohol.

The next evening, I took it in a plastic container
to his door.

The bell was broken so I had to knock timidly. It
seemed to take forever for David to answer.

When he finally appeared, he looked genuinely
pleased to see me.

‘I made you a cake,’ I blurted.

He took it from me and inspected it. ‘For me? You
shouldn’t have. It’s not my birthday, is it?’

I hesitated. ‘It’s just a little token to say thank
you for what you did the other day. Standing up to those guys, I mean. It was
very ...’

‘Stupid?’

‘No,’ I said hurriedly, ‘not stupid. Definitely not.
It was ... ’ I struggled to find the words. ‘Lovely and wonderful and I can’t
thank you enough. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.’

Inside, I was cringing. It all sounded so contrived.

David smiled broadly.
God, those teeth.
‘Do you want to come in?’

‘Okay.’

He showed me through a dimly-lit hall to the living
room. I sneaked a peak at the kitchen as we passed. It was full of dirty
dishes.

The living room was about the same size as mine,
modestly furnished, but not as shabby as I might have expected. Half of it had
been converted into a sort of photographic studio, complete with white muslin
backdrop, lighting kit, an expensive looking camera and a tripod. The whole
place had a slight air of disarray, of man living alone - the consummate
bachelor’s pad.

‘Take a seat,’ he said.

I sank down on the sofa. The cushions felt flat and
saggy. I looked around. The walls were papered with pictures of beautiful women
- fashion models in various guises. One in particular caught my attention: a
girl with dark features, Bambi eyes and her mouth parted in an expression that
said ‘come and get me.’

As if reading my mind, David explained: ‘That was
for a shoot I did for
Love
magazine.
The girl was an absolute nightmare to work with. Brazilian. Really spoilt,
really demanding. Photogenic as hell, though.’

I chuckled. Suddenly, I felt more at ease.

‘Do you fancy something to drink?’

‘Sure.’

‘Tea or something stronger?’

‘What have you got?’

‘JD’s.’

‘Fine, I’ll have that.’

David came back with a half-empty bottle of Jack
Daniel’s and poured us both a glass. I wasn’t used to drinking it straight, and
the taste caused me to wince a bit.

For a moment, we sat facing each other - he on his
office-style chair, me on the threadbare sofa. I racked my brain to think of
something to say.

‘So, this Krav Marger - ’

‘Krav Maga,’ he corrected me.

‘Krav Maga. Where did you learn to do it?’

‘I wouldn’t say I’m an expert. Just took a couple of
classes when I was living in Israel.’

‘Israel? Wow. Did you go out there for work?’

‘No, visiting family.’

‘What’s it like?’

‘Beautiful.’ He then gave me a couple of anecdotes
about his time there: the people, the places, the lifestyle. He described it
with such perfect candour; it was almost like I was living and breathing it
myself.

‘It all sounds so wonderful,’ I murmured.

‘It is. You should go there some time.’

‘I
wish
!
I’ve never been anywhere outside the UK.’

‘What – not even Paris?’

I laughed bitterly. ‘I should be so lucky. I’ve
never even been to Butlins.’

David gave a quizzical smile. ‘You know, Madeline,
you really do have striking features. Have you ever had any professional photos
taken?’

‘No, never. I’m not photogenic at all.’

He scrutinized my face. ‘Of course you are. Everyone
is. It’s just a matter of good lighting. Come on, I’ll show you.’

‘What?’

‘Let me take your picture.’

I blushed profusely. ‘No, no, I’m fine. You don’t
have to.’

‘But I want to. Sit over there, please.’

It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

Reluctantly, I got up and sat on the chrome stool by
the white board. I felt extremely hot, like the central heating had suddenly
been turned on full blast.

He crouched down by the tripod and started adjusting
its height. ‘Relax

Madeline, you look really tense.’

I squirmed. This was going to be a nightmare, I
could tell. I felt so fat and frumpy compared with the gorgeous women he was
accustomed to photographing. How on earth would I measure up to them?

‘You don’t wear any make-up, do you?’

‘Er, no, not really.’

‘Smart move. You don’t need it. You’ve got fantastic
skin.’

A smile lingered on my lips. The man could charm the
knickers off a nun.

Hastily, I downed the rest of my JD’s in one gulp.
My nerves were all over the place.

‘Look, you’re still too tense, Madeline. You need to
loosen up a bit, or it won’t look natural.’

I dropped my shoulders, slumped back on the stool,
but still this wasn’t enough for him. He walked over from the tripod and stood
behind me. Slowly, he rested his hands on the sides of my face and gently
tilted my head up. His fingers were warm and smooth. My breathing grew shallow.
Then, in one swift movement, he unclasped my hair and let my ponytail tumble
around my shoulders. I closed my eyes. His touch was like a shockwave vibrating
through my body. I was so starved of affection, so hungry for human contact,
that I relished even the slightest brush, however minute.

‘Now, just relax. You need to release all this pent
up tension.’ He slowly began kneading my shoulders with deep, rhythmic thrusts.
His hands travelled up and down my neck, lingering sensuously over my skin.
Then, with deft precision, he raked his fingers through my hair, gathering it
up in great clumps, before working his way to my temples.

‘Have you ever had an Indian head massage?’ he
purred.

‘Uh-uh.’

David started to apply more pressure, the sensation
growing more intense with every caress. I felt completely intoxicated. Tilting
my head back, I lost control and inadvertently let out a strange low growling
noise.

Suddenly, everything stopped. I opened my eyes,
burning with embarrassment. I had forgotten myself.

David looked very pleased as he returned to man the
camera. ‘I bet you’d scream the house down,’ he teased.

‘Excuse me?’ I couldn’t quite believe what I was
hearing.

‘Right,’ he said, repositioning the lamps. ‘Head
straight, eyes in this direction. Don’t worry, Madeline, just be yourself,
okay? I won’t bite.’

I stared into the lens.

‘Look, there’s a white elephant.’

‘What white -’

Flash!

‘Gotcha!’ he grinned. ‘And again ...’

‘What white elephant?’ I asked, confused.

‘There isn’t one. I just wanted to get that faraway
look in your eyes. It’s absolutely priceless.’

‘Oh.’

He took a couple more snaps and then unclipped the
camera from the tripod. ‘That was great, Madeline. Really great. Now, do you
want to take a look at how they turned out?’

I nodded eagerly. I still felt slightly dazed from
the massage.

David took the camera to his laptop that was lying
on the sofa. In no time at all, he had loaded the pictures onto Photoshop and
started messing around with the visual effects.

‘What do you think?’

I ran a critical eye over the numerous demure
expressions staring back at me from the laptop screen. I had to admit that the
‘white elephant’ trick had worked a treat. These were the best photos of me I’d
ever seen. I still thought my nose looked a bit big in some of them, but
overall, I was happy with the result.

‘Yeah, I love them,’ I gushed.

‘Good. If you’ve got a memory stick, I can make you
copies.’

‘Really? That’s so kind of you.’

David got up. ‘Right, now, let’s try some of that
delectable cake of yours. I’ve been simply dying to have a slice.’

He went to the kitchen. I heard a lot of moving
around, scraping, plates clattering, cupboards opening and closing.

‘Do you need a hand?’

‘No, no, you’re my guest. Just stay put.’

When he returned, he was holding a tray with two
slices of cake. He handed me one and took a place next to me on the sofa.

I watched intently as he sank his teeth into the
rich, crumbly sponge. He chewed vigorously, clearly savouring the flavour.

‘Hmm, this is delicious,’ he said, between
mouthfuls. ‘Very moist.’ I smiled as David put particular emphasis on the word
‘moist’.

I took a bite from my own slice. It was indeed a
fine piece of cake. The Tia Maria had blended to perfection with the sponge,
which had just the right texture. I was elated.

‘It’s got alcohol in it, hasn’t it?’

‘Just a dash,’ I winked.

I continued to chew, gazing stoically into the
distance.

‘How’s your sister? Beth, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, she’s fine.’

‘She seemed really nice, in a manic sort of way.’

I giggled. ‘Have
you
got any siblings?’

‘A brother. He lives in Canada. Haven’t spoken to
him in years.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Don’t be. I’m not.’

I glanced down at his feet. It was the first time I
had noticed that he wasn’t wearing any slippers. The socks he wore today were
an abysmal green colour, with the customary hole in the big toe. But, more
importantly, there was no smell. I felt extremely relieved about this. It was
yet another plus to add to my glowing appraisal of him.

‘So Madeline, tell me more about yourself.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well, let’s start with where you work. You say you
work for the council. What exactly do you do there?’

I hesitated. ‘I work in a call centre. Parking
fines, traffic appeals, that sort of thing. Not particularly interesting.’

‘Actually, I think it’s very interesting. Why don’t
you think it’s interesting?’

‘Because it’s not fun and glamorous like what you
do.’

‘Do you think my job is always fun?’ David laughed
sardonically. ‘Of course not. Between all the glamour and excitement there are
deadly lulls. Sometimes its months before I get a new assignment, and then I
wish I had regular job, a nine to five. Trust me, Madeline, no job is perfect.’

I nodded, feeling a little better. ‘I guess so. I
never thought of it that way before.’