The Aviary Gate (4 page)

‘But what's all this got to do with Celia Lamprey?'

‘Well, that's just it – I haven't been able to find out anything about her at all. It's the same old story: lots of information about the man, nothing at all about the woman – until now.'

‘Go on then,' Eve said, impatient now, ‘get to the point.'

‘It turns out that Paul Pindar was a friend of Thomas Bodley, and when Bodley was founding the library here he famously went around collaring his friends and persuading them to collect books for him. With all his travelling in exotic lands, Pindar must have been a prime candidate. Anyway, to cut a long story short, Pindar did indeed make a bequest of books to the library, and today I went and looked at them. It was quite a small bequest, about twenty books mostly in Arabic and Syriac. From what I could make out they're mostly old medicinal and astrological texts. Anyway, it was just by chance, just by the most incredible chance, I was getting ready to go home when I opened one of the books at random, and there was this piece of paper inside, and I knew
at once
…' Stricken, Elizabeth stopped in mid-sentence.

‘You knew at once …?' Eve repeated. Then she saw Elizabeth's face. ‘What's wrong, you look as if you've seen—'

Eve made as if to turn around, but Elizabeth grabbed her hand.

‘Don't look now, please. Just keep talking.'

‘Marius?'

‘Just keep talking to me, Eve. Please.' Elizabeth pressed the palm of her other hand to her solar plexus.

‘Marius.' Eve's voice was sour. But she did not look round. Instead she took off her glasses and began to clean them on a fold of her dress in little staccato movements. Her eyes, without the glasses, were almond shaped, very black and bright. ‘Who's he with this time?'

‘Don't know.' Elizabeth said. ‘Someone … else.'

She looked over to where Marius was now sitting on the other side of the café. She had not seen him for over a week.

The woman sitting with him had her back to them, all she could see was a blonde head. At the sight of her, something in Elizabeth's stomach lurched so violently she thought she might be physically sick.

In the King's Arms, Eve brought them both double vodkas, and found a corner seat for them as far away as possible from the other Friday drinkers.

‘It's very noble of you not to say anything,' Elizabeth said after she had drunk some of the vodka. She could see that the effort to be tactful was about to make Eve explode. ‘So go on then, spit it out.'

‘No. I've said everything I want to say. Several times.' Eve fumbled in her bag and brought out a bandana in the same red and white print of her dress and tied it violently, washerwoman style, round her head.

‘You mean how he uses me and I'm much too good for him and all men are bastards?'

Eve did not reply.

‘Stop fumbling.'

‘Why shouldn't I fumble?'

‘You only fumble when you're angry.'

‘Hmm.'

‘Are you angry with me?'

‘Oh for God's sake, Elizabeth!' Eve put her bag down. ‘That man makes you miserable. He trifles with your heart. There is so much… so much negative energy around you when you're with him, or when you have anything to do with him, I can almost hear it crackling. Eventually it's going to make you ill. Actually ill.'

But I already am ill, Elizabeth felt like saying. This thing that I'm feeling, it
is
an illness. Instead she took another mouthful of vodka.
He trifles with your heart
. The sort of thing her grandmother might have said. Had Eve actually used those words, or had she just imagined them?

‘Are you in love with him?' Eve looked at her intently.

‘I suppose I must be.'

‘But he treats you like shit.'

‘Only sometimes.' Elizabeth managed a small laugh.

‘Ah, you see,' Eve pounced on something else. ‘You used to be always laughing. You don't laugh any more, Liz.'

‘That's not true.' The vodka burned into her throat. ‘I just did.'

‘You know what I mean.'

‘He's not my boyfriend, Eve. He never has been.' Elizabeth tried to stop herself from sounding bleak. ‘Marius is my lover.'

‘Oh, I
see
. Your lover. Is that what he tells you? How very glamorous. But shall I translate that for you, into Marius-speak? It means he can pick you up and then just drop you again whenever he damn well wants to.
Uh!
' she let out an exasperated cry, ‘I don't understand why he
can't just let you go
…'

Elizabeth's phone buzzed. It was a text from Marius. Her heart lurched.
hello beautiful why you so sad?

Elizabeth thought carefully for a moment before she texted back:
me? sad?

After a moment the reply came:
u drinking vodka, baby
.

Her head jerked up, and then there he was, sliding into the seat next to her. ‘Hello, beautiful,' Marius said, taking her hand proprietorially in his. Unkempt hair falling to his shoulders, the jacket he always wore smelling – improbably erotically – of cigarettes and damp leather. ‘Hello, Eve. Off to a fancy dress party?'

‘Hello.' Eve's almond-shaped eyes narrowed until they were two black slits. ‘Marius.'

He laughed. ‘Was that a smile, or did you actually just bare your teeth at me?'

He looked at Elizabeth, complicit; and despite herself, she laughed too. Marius could always make her laugh, could always charm her into feeling that she was at the centre of his universe. He picked up Elizabeth's glass and drained the last mouthful of vodka.

‘Mmm, Grey Goose, very fancy. But don't worry girls, I'm not going to intrude on your little téte-à-téte, I just came over to say hello.'

He leant over and kissed Elizabeth on the neck. At his smell, his touch – his dangerous touch – she felt a shiver of pleasure.

‘Is it just me, or is your friend completely bulletproof?' he whispered in her ear. Elizabeth suppressed another smile.

‘Oh, don't go …' she began, ‘stay and have a drink with us,' but he was already sliding away from her.

‘Sorry, darling, can't stop. Departmental meeting in half an hour.'

‘On a Friday night?' Eve said, acidly. ‘That's very hard-working of you, Doctor.'

Marius ignored her. ‘I'll call you soon, I promise,' he said to Elizabeth, and then with a wave he was gone through the thickening throng of people.

‘He followed you here!' Eve glared at his receding figure. ‘He must have done. Why can't he just let you get on with your life? He doesn't really want you, but he can't leave you alone either … oh, fuck it, I'll get us some more drinks.' She stood up. ‘And I don't care what anyone says, someone really should point out to him that he's too old to be wearing leather trousers,' she added spitefully.

Elizabeth did not bother to protest. Suddenly she felt completely
exhausted. The elation she had felt at seeing Marius so unexpectedly had plummeted away from her. Now, instead, somewhere inside her there was a hole.

Then her mobile buzzed again.
my place, half an hour?
She put the phone back in her bag. I know I shouldn't but I'm going to. Her face felt flushed. And her heart, her trifled-with heart? Soaring again.

‘Sorry, darling. I've got to go.'

‘I hope it's worth it,' Eve replied.

‘Hope what is?'

‘The sex.'

Elizabeth kissed her on the top of the head.

‘Love you,' was all she said.

Later, Elizabeth watched Marius as he dressed. He seemed preoccupied. She did not mind. Still in the enchanted glow of his attentions, she was peaceful again. She had always loved to watch him as he dressed. For a man in his forties his body was still beautiful to her. She loved the slenderness of his hips, the way the hairs curled around his navel. He was putting on a pair of faded jeans. His legs, she thought, looked good in jeans. The leather of his belt made a sudden snapping sound.

She wanted to tell him about the captivity narrative. She wondered how to do it. I found something exciting today … she composed the sentence carefully in her head. At least I think I did … At the thought of her discovery her excitement flared, and then guttered again. No, she could just imagine what he would say. Better wait until she was sure.

‘Where is it you have to go?'

‘That departmental meeting I told you about.'

‘Oh.'

‘Well, it's not exactly a meeting. I just have to meet up to discuss some things.' He gave her a quick smile. ‘Sorry.'

What did
that
mean? Marius was better than anyone she had ever met at not answering questions. Questions like who are you really going to meet? Is it another woman? Is it that woman I saw you with in Blackwell's today, and who the hell was she anyway? She knew instinctively how annoyed he would be if she asked any of them. Bit them back.

‘What are your plans?' He sat down next to her on the bed.

She took his hand and held it to her lips, willing him not to go away from her just yet.

‘Can I stay here?' she said, trying to sound casual.

‘Well … you can if you want to,' he said.

If there was reluctance in his voice Elizabeth was determined not to hear it. ‘I'll keep the bed warm for you.'

‘Well, OK.' He drew his hand gently away from her. ‘I might be late, though.'

‘I don't mind.'

A few minutes later she heard the door slam and he was gone.

Elizabeth lay in Marius's bed looking up at the ceiling. It was a beautiful room, at least the architecture was. Tall windows with mullioned glass looking down over the college quadrangle. On summer mornings the whole room was flooded with sunlight. She remembered when they had first met, the previous June, and how the two of them would lie naked on his bed, the splintered light falling in rainbows over their naked bodies. Had he made her happy then? She supposed so.

Now she felt her peace of mind seep slowly from her again. It was still early, only half-past nine. A bitter rain sheeted against the window panes. Elizabeth looked around her forlornly. Without Marius in it, it occurred to her that the room was lonelier than anywhere she had ever known and had a curiously tawdry feel. For a man of such fastidious intellect, he was an untidy man. Piles of his old clothes lay on the floor. Dirty mugs full of old tea bags were piled on the dresser next to a little sink, a half-empty carton of milk next to them, which she knew from past experience was bound to be sour, even though the room was cold as the grave.

Her whole body ached.
I hope the sex is worth it
, Eve had said. Well, it might be for him, but not for me, she thought bitterly. Not even that. She pulled the duvet more closely round her, searching for his smell, trying to conjure the feeling of his arms around her. She felt utterly humiliated. Why do I do it?
He trifles with your heart
. Eve is right, this isn't love, this is torment. I can't stand it any more, Elizabeth thought. There was an emptiness in her so profound she felt she might drown in it.

Later, much later, she awoke to find that there was someone standing over the bed watching her.

‘Marius?'

‘You're still here.' Was it surprise she could hear in his voice? He sat down next to her, pulled the duvet down to uncover her naked shoulders. ‘You look so sweet when you're asleep, like a little dormouse. Are you all right?'

‘Yes.' She turned over sleepily, glad that in the darkness he would not be able to see her swollen eyelids. ‘No, actually. What time is it?'

‘Late. I didn't think you'd still be here.'

‘Marius …' The fact that she could not see him properly made her brave. ‘I don't think I can do this any more.'

‘Why's that?' Thoughtfully he traced the warm curve of her shoulder with his fingers. ‘I thought you liked doing it.'

‘You know what I mean,' she turned over to face him.

‘No, I don't.' He was undressing again, pulling off his shoes, his shirt. ‘You've been talking to Rosa Klebb again, haven't you?'

‘Don't say that, Eve's a good friend to me.' Normally the joke would have make her laugh, but not now. ‘She says that you don't really want me, but that you can't let me go either,' Elizabeth said into the darkness.

‘Uh—' Marius gave a non-committal grunt. She heard the buckle of his belt fall to the floor and then he was climbing into bed next to her. ‘Come here,' he put his arms round her cold shoulders, cradling her so that her head was resting in the crook of his neck. She stretched out, fitting herself into the curve of his body so that every inch of her was touching him, warming herself against him.

‘I'm sorry,' she said.

‘Eve should get out more.' His breath, she noticed, smelt of whisky. ‘You know I love you, don't you?' he said, brushing her forehead with his lips.