The Liar's Chair (17 page)

A week later and his tray nudged mine in the canteen queue. ‘Oh, gee, I’m so sorry,’ he said, mopping up my spilt tea. Further down the line as we chatted, we discovered we
were both on a Business Studies BA, him a year behind due to his sojourn in the States. There were white marks round his wrist and on a couple of fingers, as if he’d recently removed some
jewellery; a cultural chameleon returning slowly to the style of his current pack. By the time we reached the till he’d asked me out for a drink, the invitation tacked on to a stretch as he
reached across for a sachet of sugar, and his neck came close enough for me to smell his aftershave and see the tan line that framed his neck. The whole manoeuvre was casual enough to convince me
that he asked girls out every day. The cash-desk woman – regulation paper hat pinned at an angle, red lipstick bleeding into the cigarette creases round her lips – was silent, waiting
for my money, and for my answer to David. All I could think was that he was new around here, that maybe he hadn’t heard about the steady line of boys who came into my bed, or of the wounded
few who tried to see me again. I knew everyone talked about me, I saw the way they looked at me, so by now David surely had to know. Perhaps he simply didn’t care. This was new; here was
someone who operated along the same lines as I did, who pleased themselves and to hell with what other people thought. I was so shocked I said yes.

Now, a man walks across the launderette towards Will. Will stands. The two shake hands and the man claps the grip together with his other palm, Will’s hand sandwiched in the middle.

‘All right, mate, how you doing?’ Will asks.

‘All good, mate, all good. Glad I bumped into you.’ The man keeps hold of Will’s hand, pumping the shake for a bit longer, then he stops and pulls Will towards him. His voice
lowers but I’m close enough to hear. ‘Been meaning to look you up to say thanks, you know, for what you did. It meant a lot.’

‘No problem, mate.’ Will coughs to the side and tugs his arm a little to loosen the grip, but the other man holds fast. ‘I mean, enough’s enough, right?’

‘You got that right.’

Will slides his hand free and stands back to create a few inches between the two of them. The man nods his head towards me with eyebrows raised, and flicks a glance from me back to Will.

‘Yeah, yeah, she’s cool,’ Will says.

The man wipes his nose on his index finger. ‘Sounds like Darren won’t be up to his old tricks after the state you left him in.’ He moves a little too close again. ‘Think
he got the message, right? Last I heard he was heading for Timbuktu. Don’t think you’ll be welcome in that local no more though.’ They laugh as Will looks to the floor, and the
two men shuffle their feet. Will flicks me a shy smile and winks.

‘Well,’ the man says, ‘a favour for a favour. Thought I should let you know someone’s interested in your business, more than wanting a little slice. I’d think about
switching venues if I were you.’

‘OK, right. Cheers, mate.’ Will scratches his head. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘It’s only a rumour, that’s all, but you can’t be too careful.’

‘I’ll keep an eye out.’ Will glances at me and I stare at the floor, pretending I’m not listening. ‘Look, I’ll catch up with you soon. You know . . .’ I
look up to see him tipping his head at me with a couple of nods. ‘I better go.’

‘Yeah, yeah, OK, but you should also stay away from that job rehousing those tree-huggers. Same crew’s on their case that’s been asking about you.’

Will straightens up. ‘And which crew might that be then?’

‘Can’t say, mate, not my place, just keep away if anyone tries to get you involved. You’ll end up on the wrong side of the fence, if you get my drift.’

‘It was never my bag that one. Got nothing against a bit of peaceful protest.’

‘Well, you know, can’t imagine it’ll be much bother, what with all their Gandhi bullshit.’

Will looks at me nervously and puts a hand to the man’s back, turning the two of them towards the window.

‘Look, thanks for looking out for me, I won’t forget it. Keep in touch if you hear anything else, yeah?’

‘Course, mate, course. No worries. I’ll see you round.’ He slaps Will between the shoulders and Will nudges forward a step. The man walks back to his machine, stuffs his
clothes into a bin liner and leaves. He gives Will one last nod from the door.

Will looks at me and shrugs his shoulders.

‘What was that about tree-huggers?’ I ask.

‘Nothing I’m involved in and nothing you need to worry about. Like I told you, I’ve got it covered.’ He sits next to me and digs a finger into my ribs and wiggles it
around. ‘Think I’ve found a new name for you. Big Ears.’ I cover my mouth to suppress the snort, but a giggle bursts through before I can swallow it. He tickles me again and we
both laugh. My cheek muscles creak. Faces turn to watch. I pull away from Will, straight-faced, and he lays his hands on his knees. We sit in silence for a few moments.

‘As long as you’re safe,’ I say.

Will coughs and looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He sits next to me for a few moments, his leg vibrating up and down, and I stare at him, waiting. Then he
jumps up and says, ‘Righto, better get the wash on then?’

He puts the duvet into one of the bigger washers and rattles about with the broken change machine, then decides to go to the shop next door for coins. A customer has parked her baby’s
buggy close to me in a dark corner. The little boy is sleeping, and his bare legs loll over the sides of the seat. His cheeks are fat and shiny like he’s eaten butter and smeared it over his
face, and he looks soft in his sleepy sweat, lulled by the drone of the machines and the warmth of the dryers whose drums puff a mist of cotton into the air. The child’s romper suit creases
and un-creases with each small breath he takes. This is what it must be like to be a mother, to be watching always, aware of the nano-distance between life and death; a breath or no breath. I lean
my head against the wall and close my eyes, daring to touch in and out of small waves of sleep, and I revisit a dream I had last night.

I dreamt of a bog – a big, deep, rotting bog.

In the dream I’ve bought a house on a new suburban estate. A circular drive connects all the homes. It’s not the kind of place I would choose to live, but it’s safe and happy
– ordered – a place for goodness and new beginnings. Like I’ve come home. Outside a ground-floor window is a small decked area surrounded by a balustrade, and immediately on the
other side of this deck is the bog. At its edge a crust curves round to form a lip which nudges the turf very gently. With the smallest rainfall the level will rise and the thick black silage will
seep into the house and ruin the carpet and all our things. Even though I can’t see below the lake’s surface, I know objects are trapped and rotting underneath. The liquid ripples and a
woman climbs out. She comes to me with open arms, but she’s too filthy to hug. She whispers in my ear that the limbs of children have been thrown in the lake, and I need to get them out
because they belong to me.

I’m startled from my half-sleep by Will coughing in front of me with two styrofoam cups of coffee. I take a moment to regroup, the edges of the dream still with me.

‘The caff was really busy.’ He looks flustered. ‘I had to queue and it took ages. I got us a takeout.’ He sits next to me and hands me a cup. ‘Sorry, I didn’t
mean to wake you.’

‘Thanks.’ I sit up in my seat and wipe a spit dribble from the corner of my mouth. ‘I wasn’t sleeping, just resting my eyes.’

The room has emptied and only a couple of customers are left: a man folds large grey underwear on the bench, plus the mother and her baby are still here. The woman stands by the window talking
quietly on her phone. It’s darker than before with the sun now behind a cloud, and the dim light is a blanket over the outside world. For the first time in for ever, I am with someone and in
something I don’t want to end.

Will and I take sips of the hot milky liquid, pressing the squeaky lids back on afterwards. He taps his knee. Leaning forward, he picks up a toy which has rolled off the buggy. First he places
it on the hood of the pram, then changes his mind and puts it gently next to the little hand. The mother, still talking on her phone, watches with sideways eyes. Will nods at her and puts a finger
to his mouth in a silent shush, then sits back in his seat with a wide smile. I lean over and press my shoulder to his. He is warm. I bend my head across to him and our hair touches. He puts a hand
on mine. I turn my palm upwards. Where my wedding ring used to be, the skin is pinched and sunken. We interlock fingers. I smile.

‘It’s OK, you know,’ he says.

‘What is?’

He puts his cup on the floor and, with his other hand, leans across and brushes hair from my face. ‘This.’

I shift up in my chair. ‘And what do you call this?’

He looks around the room. Outside, it’s started to drizzle.

‘Happiness,’ he replies.

Will’s hand is warm and I squeeze a bit tighter. The space between our palms disappears.

‘There are things about me you don’t know,’ I say. ‘I don’t deserve you to be so good to me. I’m not what you think.’

‘Try me.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start. It’s complicated.’

‘Rachel, you can trust me.’

‘I want to but I don’t know how.’

In my bag my mobile rings. I pull my hand from Will’s to get the phone. David’s name flashes up on the screen and hot-wires me back to reality.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ Will tries to grab the phone but it falls from my hand and spins on the floor. Parts of the casing scatter but the phone carries on ringing. The noise
bounces from the walls like a siren, and wakes the baby. I put my cup on the chair and the coffee spills into a puddle on the seat. On my hands and knees, I gather the bits of the phone, reject the
call then stand to leave.

Will grabs my hand and looks up. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Home.’

‘Why?’

‘Because David will be angry.’

‘You don’t have to put up with his shit. Why don’t you leave him? You could if you really wanted to. I can help.’

‘What? Help me get away from David?’

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t understand. You have no idea what kind of man he is.’

Will stands and paces a small line back and forth. ‘Well, maybe I do, maybe I know more about him than you think. What d’you imagine that bloke was talking about just now?
Someone’s on my case, been putting out feelers as to where you go to on your nights off.’ He stops to look at me then paces again. ‘I’m one step ahead though.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I hug my waist, the temperature sucking from the room. ‘How close is David to finding us?’

‘Not very. There are enough people covering me for now, but I’ve only got so many favours to call in.’

‘When did you find out?’

‘About a week ago. I know people who know people. But like I said, I’m on it. Why do you think we met at a different pub last night?’ Will looks me straight in the eyes.
‘We could go, we could leave, together. Soon it will be too late.’

‘I don’t know.’ More breath than words come out of my mouth. ‘David will find me, I know him, he won’t give up.’ I move away from Will and look towards the
door, then back to Will again. The customers in the launderette are watching and I drop my voice. ‘I’m scared.’

‘Then let me help you.’

‘How?’

Will pulls me down on to his chair and kneels in front of me. ‘I’ve told you, down at the docks. It’s easier than you think to slip away, it happens all the time. Tell me that
you want to and I’ll fix it.’

In the corner the mother jiggles the buggy and the baby is quiet. The dryer pauses in its cycle and the man searches through coins in his palm to feed the machine. For one moment there is a
brief and complete stillness. I think of David at home waiting; the habit of us, even though it’s painful, is like cement, and I can’t believe I’d ever be free of him. Then there
is the possibility of a life with Will, the two of us grubbing away in the arse-end of God knows where. And lastly there’s the man whose life I took. He has no choices any more. Perhaps I
shouldn’t either. Bad people get what they deserve.

Tears rise in my throat but I won’t let them through. My voice is a whisper. ‘I’m sorry. I should never have come here, it was stupid of me.’ I push the hair back off my
face with shaking fingers. ‘I can’t see you any more, it’s too risky for both of us. I have to go.’

I stand and walk towards the exit as the dryer starts again.

Will stands, grabs my arm and holds me as I pull away. His voice is low. ‘This is it, Rachel. I’m tired of this same argument – you’re always so cold – but
I’m offering you a way out. Us together has become dangerous. If you feel the same way about me as I do about you, now is the time to leave. I’ve put myself on the line, but I
won’t do it again. This is your last chance. You need to decide.’

Without a second’s pause, I pull my arm from his grip and walk towards the door.

Will calls after me: ‘Yeah, bugger off then. Remember, next time you come knocking, I won’t be here.’

The underwear man looks up at me with a blank expression, as if this kind of heckling is a regular pastime in these parts. The door is stiff and I tug it a few times but it only opens a couple
of inches.

I hear Will behind me, opening the machine and clunking the door shut. ‘Fucking hell,’ he shouts. I turn to see him kick the machine. The metal shudders.

‘You need to push,’ underwear man says.

With my shoulder, I release the door into the biting air, and my back prickles with the three pairs of eyes I sense are watching. Behind me, the door swishes back and forth, and the noise from
the machines pulses through the gap. I get into my car. Before I start the engine a text comes through from David.

‘Baby, where are you? I need you. Something’s happened to the dogs.’

As I open our front door, David rushes to me and throws his arms round my shoulders. His head is hot and his clothes are damp with sweat. For once his body odour is
unchecked.