The Lesser Bohemians (33 page)

By the time you showed up in Vancouver though, you weren’t looking again. It was stupid of me to be upset, for God’s sake, I was a happily married woman but   some things never go away. I might have been more amenable if you’d made a pass and I’d gotten to refuse. Except I probably wouldn’t have, even then. If you’d only just left it Stephen, I might’ve come around on my
own. It was your desperation for her that drove me mad so, every time you’d ask, you were just tightening the noose around your own neck. When we left England I’d decided I’d never make contact again. For those two years I worked constantly to make her forget. Never mentioned you. Called Phil her dad and tried so hard to make him that. But she’d never say it, even at four. She remembered you and asked for you. I never thought she would then, out of the blue, she’d ask When’s Daddy coming round? Or run, calling for you, after some tall man in the street and I’d know I shouldn’t be putting her through it but      I couldn’t help myself. The bitterness was so bad. Her first memory though, is of you. Of you showing her the sea. I hate it when she tells that story. Why do you get to have that with her? Anyway, what does it matter. Daddy’s who you’ve always been to Grace and, you probably won’t believe this, but it was my parents insisting ‘This isn’t right. You have to tell that boy where his daughter is’ that finally persuaded me to contact you again.

Eily, when I heard all that, he says I wanted to fucking kill her again. For the first time in over sixteen years I stopped feeling guilty and not because I thought she’d deserved it but because I realised I hadn’t, not all of it anyway.

Jesus Marianne, I said All that rancour over all these years and I never knew that’s how you felt about me. I used to wish there was some way you’d forgive me, I would have done anything for that. But I never asked you back because you said you never would. And by the time I got out of Friern Barnet there was nothing left of me for playing games. I could barely cope with getting out of bed and I’m sure it was humiliating, what happened with David, but he was all I had. At least until you let me see Grace and she gave me a reason to live, something to work towards and I did get there with her. I made a new life and
I know it didn’t look like much but it was a lot for me. It was everything. And when you took her away I nearly died. Losing her is by far the worst thing I’ve ever had to survive. And now you’re telling me, when it’s years too late, that it all could have been different? I could have been part of my daughter’s life and got to watch her growing up, if I’d made you feel pretty, if I’d chased you around? If I’d only realised there was still a fucking game going on? Jesus Christ. I would rather believe it was because you hated my guts than this stupid, vain, completely fucking ridiculous bullshit. At least hate has some blood in it. At least there’s some human feeling in that, but to have done this to me because I didn’t guess you shagging someone was supposed to make me jealous? Because I loved my daughter more than you? Then try to make her think I’m some kind of fucking pervert so you’d feel you’d somehow won? When did you not fucking win Marianne? You and your lovely life and your big fucking mansion that contains all the memories of my daughter I’ll never have. I don’t know what you thought the prize was but, whatever it was, you fucking won it. Well done! Jesus, if it wasn’t for Gracie, I’d wish I’d never laid eyes on you.

So        that was that and we just sat there in the aftermath. I didn’t know what else to say. I was completely fucking blind with rage. She was crying at first, then Stephen, she said I’ve behaved so badly, but I didn’t have the energy for it. Leave it Marianne, I said There’s nothing else to say. But No, she said Everything you’ve said is true and I’ve thought about it many times in recent months. And what, Marianne, I said Did you think? She said I think, how could I not have forgiven you by now, Stephen? I should have long ago because, the truth is, I’ve never been sorry I laid eyes on you. You gave her to me and I love her and, God, she looks so like you too. I sometimes think
that’s my punishment for taking her away, having to look at you in her every day. I think I should have gotten over myself years ago. On balance the time with you was difficult, yes, but you didn’t ruin my life. As it turns out, those few years were a rough patch in what’s been a fairly calm sea. By and large my parents took care of me. Expensive education. I never wanted materially, and when everything went to pieces with you I still had a home to run to. Soon after you I met Philip and I’ve been happy with him. I have three children I love – even if one is intent on driving me insane. I’ve had all those things I wanted in life. Big house. Nice car. A career which, if not stellar, is enough. And even though I know it’s not for me, here you are after all I did, still willing to help with Grace. I think I’ve been pretty lucky in life, very, in comparison to you. Stephen, I feel terrible about what I said to Grace and I know it’s far too late but I am very ashamed of having cut you out of her life. I can never make that up to you but I do apologise, sincerely apologise, and hope you’ll forgive me one day.

I just looked at her Eily. That was pretty fucking unexpected, you know? I wanted to give her an earful then I thought Oh God, I’m so tired of all this and what it’s done to every part of my life. I’m going to see Grace again, that’s what counts, and if nothing else I understand the weight of a past you deeply regret. So I said I will forgive you Marianne but only if you’ll finally do the same? I can’t very well not now, she said Shall we try again, for Grace? Yes, I said I think we should. It got a bit quiet again so, to help finish off, I asked after her boys. She talked a little about them, which eased things up – that and the wine. We drifted on to people we’d known, who I was still in touch with and who was still working? I made some daft remark about being the last man standing and she started to
laugh, which then set me off. We were both pretty hysterical I think, as well as a little drunk. But all that primness sliding off her was kind of   irresistible. I began to see her again, what had made me so wild about her back then. You look exactly like you did at twenty-one, I said. I wish that was true, she laughed I’ve often wondered how it would be to see you again, if you’d feel like a stranger? And do I? Not really, more solemn perhaps – and whose fault is that? – but mostly the same. Not too much I hope, I said. It was a compliment Stephen, take it! The first year we had together was pretty wonderful don’t you think? It was, I said and, you know Eily, the way she looked at me, I suddenly stopped being angry. I suppose I never thought I’d see her smile at me again. We should do this more often, I said Although, perhaps, without the yelling first. I’m sure we will, she said Now Miss Grace has had her way. We finished up about then. I got the bill and paid – I owed her for her grandmother’s wedding ring, if nothing else.

When we came out she said Walk me as far as Charing Cross? So we strolled across Covent Garden. She scabbed a fag and I said I do remember I got you a coat Marianne, that time you were talking about. You stole me a coat Stephen, she said Which is not the same and a few months later one of your cronies stole it again. Then I got stuck in a bus queue in the rain and caught a cold and that’s how Grace came to be. Really? Oh yes, I was quite sick and you were very sweet, kept bringing me bowls of soup and tea. You were always very attentive when I was ill, quite endearing actually. So I was just getting better, and you were in my good books for a change, and we ended up having a go. You kept saying how warm I was and should have a temperature more often, do you remember? And, funnily enough, I actually did but I said I never realised that was the moment.
Soon as I woke up the next morning, she said I had the feeling something had changed. I remember looking over at you, fast asleep beside, just starting to run a temperature yourself, and I thought Well Stephen, nothing will ever be the same again. For some reason I put an arm round her then. And she let me. We were both so wrecked. It was like the walking fucking wounded. But nice to be there, in that moment and sunlight, walking down the Strand.

When we got to Charing Cross, I hailed her a cab. Before she got in, we said our goodbyes and I went to kiss her cheek but she kissed me on the mouth, properly, you know? I was kind of off guard so I kissed her back. He looks over at me, but how can I react? Just pretend to nod calmly until he looks away. It was strange to kiss her, he says Because it was the same and, naturally, the old troublesome part of me started thinking Well, that might be fun. Old times’ sake et cetera and then      I thought of you   and it was a pretty tired kiss after that, between two people who are really done. When we stopped she said That was nice. I thought Shit! and said Look Marianne. Only checking, she laughed Mind still on other things, eh Stephen? I didn’t answer but, as she got in, she said So there is someone? I just shrugged. That was not a conversation I wanted to have with her. Never mind, I’m married, she said And I already know you shouldn’t be my type, so I’ll see you in Canada. See you soon, I said, shutting the door. Then they pulled out into the traffic and that was that.

Fuck Stephen, I say looking at him, only realising now what’s different. His whole body. It’s filled with light. He just doesn’t know it yet and holds himself, because it’s strange, very tightly down. So we look at each other with quiet eyes until he, too overcome even to smile, lights another cigarette. Stephen,
you’re going to see Grace. I’m so happy for you. I can’t really believe it, he says I went into the first travel agent I passed and booked my ticket, second week of August, just over two weeks. Then I called her. Not for long – I’d only two pound coins – but she picked up and said Dad I knew it would be you. So I told her I was coming, that I’d see her soon. That things would be better with her mother from now on. That I loved her. She said it too. I asked if I could call for longer tomorrow? She said Yes, as my money ran out. And he covers his face because, maybe, he’ll cry? Then shakes his head, to be rid instead, and looks up outside. I can see he thinks of something so far off from here. The purpling sky of Kentish Town isn’t it.
Who am I in the middle of this?
Thank you for coming here to tell me, I say, expecting him to get up now and start making to leave
but when he does how will I keep the promise I made?
He doesn’t move though. He says I decided I’d walk back, to clear my head, but the further I did the harder it became. Because, despite everything that had just occurred, I started dreading the hours ahead of sitting in that empty room. And I kept remembering last night, how it was before you came. Then how pointless it felt to kiss Marianne. How I know – and I do – that’ll be the same with any woman who isn’t you. And we are suddenly in the ocean. It is almost over our heads. But he stands up then, quick then, chucks out his cigarette. So I thought I better come see you, he says. Why? I ask, with the heart going awful in my chest. Because I am a fucking hypocrite, he says But I’m so tired of it and I don’t want to make myself learn to live without you. So what do you think about getting on with our life together, whatever that will be like? Stephen, do you mean it? He pulls me up to my feet. I do, he says Will you have me back? I will, I say. Come on then, he smiles Let’s you and me go home.

We stand outside a moment and be the faces beyond the glass surveying our old world. Empty flat. Goodbye that life, then pass on down the steps and drop my key in a drain. And so we go down through Kentish Town. Warmer out than in. Battered and happy. Quiet though, because soon enough the night will come. On into Camden. Up the Camden Road. Right onto his much For Sale street – not his though. Just dandelion leaves trod all down his path with this going away and the coming back. Some great ending it feels like. For now though, just go through his broke door.

His room a bit tidier. Boxes pushed a bit back. Warm from the day and cigarettes smoked. And all in through, the smell of him. Drop the duvet. Close the door behind while he shoulders off my heavy bag, turning in the dusty light. Pulling up his window to let the evening in. Some car then roaring down to Camden and after it, in waves, the Thursday traffic reams by. Soothes like balm. Calms the mind, and we, in here, are very calm, knowing now for the first time precisely where we are.

And he comes to me across the room to put his long arms around. Leaning down to be held and hold so well. Moving until we find the right place, where I fit with him. Sealing together. Closing every gap. Breathing each other like an ocean we have thought a long time of, and missed. I push his jacket off first. Shirt then. Tugging down where he must help, smiling at me, shaking cuffs from his wrists. Laughing when I kiss his warm armpit and, as he slides his glasses off, I touch his smooth shoulders with my mouth. There where they curve into collarbone. There, in the deep, as they round to his arms. Long and lean and strong I think. Just starting to turn brown. And kiss his chest in amongst the dark hairs. Smiling up to, arms around his waist. Opening, slipping off trousers and belt. He, obedient, stepping
out, only stopping to kiss. Pulling now at his underwear, touching just a little and careful. Smiling to the grey eyes smiling at me. Catching me up to stroke my cheek. Then stepping back to watch me undress. Slipping clothes off and showing him myself. His warm hand laid on my breast. Thumb moving my nipple a touch. Happy together but so silent we are that a clock two floors up is more, that pigeons in the tree beyond make more noise than we two need to. And my turn to lead him back across the room. Sitting him on his armchair. Kneeling down between but up to kiss. To take his long fingers through my hair. Find his mouth with mine. His tongue with my tongue. His hands running my body but I’m sliding down. All his old scars. Each country of him. I know them like the world. The good smell of his chest, the lean stomach as well. Hold where he is hard, then bend to press against my lips. Shiver through him as I let it in. Past my teeth and onto my tongue. Deep into my mouth and he goes smooth in. Like warm stone. Soft skin. Moving him. Feeling all the filling veins fill until it must be almost sore. But the more I do, the more it goes. Down his legs. Up his torso. Travelling into the balls grown tight in my palm. Of all his body, the tenderest part, so I put my mouth there too. In through the folds and tickling beneath until he laughs and catches at my hand to stop, but taking all the pleasure that I have to give. Loving to. Rising up a little against when he goes back into my mouth. Tasting all of him there. Taking in far as I can. Going quicker until lips bruise. Then the long of my tongue does the work instead. Holding gently to keep him straight. Licking the little wet off the tip. Sticky of it on my lips. Going down again. And the excitement roams over. Up his back. Across his chest. In the bob of his throat, and as he puts his head back, I see where it’s begun hazing out sight. His whole long body giving
to each movement I make. The only sound is my mouth creasing with wet and his deep increasing breath until he’s brought – in case I don’t know – to saying Eily I’m really close. But I ignore this, because I can. Just keep him there, hard as he’s ever been. But in a moment he says again Eily, I’m really close now. So I take him out, to say So come then. He just looks at me, tortured with want and full of feeling. I can’t do that to you, he says. I want you to, I say Let’s just be us today. Then take him back into my mouth, on the very verge of go. So he grips my hand. So he strokes my hair. So and then, he lets himself. And I can feel the pleasure roll across him, to and from my mouth. The swell of his body as it goes through. Then the first drops from the first wave spring to the back of my tongue, coming up from inside him and out into me. And I able for it, the warmth and taste of him. For the more of it and more. Him hardly controlling, even pushing a bit. His whole body alive and hot in my mouth. I shift back just enough to make more room, then swallow, swallow it down. Swallowing until he is done and. Breathes as if he can’t quite catch the air while I, to complete, lick him clean. Still hard though he’s finished, but fragile in it. Kiss the gentle head and rest myself in the crease, down by the dark pubic hair and breathe him in. Open as I have ever been. The wind could rush right through without touching my skin so at peace with it, and in love with him, that I could stay here for years. But he leans himself forward and says Come up here to me. I reach my arms round his neck to be pulled onto his knee. Two months Eily, he says Or two years or twenty, whatever you’ll give me, I’ll take.