Untouchable Things (36 page)

When he yanks out the plug he is panting.

Scene 11

“I tell you, he was acting as if he owned the flat. Like he’d moved in or something. There were beer cans on the table, the ashtray was full – he’d probably had a few mates round too. What? I can see you looking at each other. It isn’t funny.”

José meets Rebecca’s eye again. “Look, Anna, you went round for a quiet drink and found Jake doing exactly the same. I’m sure all of us have done it. Why have a go at Jake?”

“I don’t know – it was like he tried to frighten me deliberately, sneaking up on me like that. And then he just laughed. He was so blatant about the fact that he was chilling out in Seth’s flat drinking Seth’s beer – you can guarantee he won’t have brought his own. Maybe that’s why he wanted everyone to have keys – so he could bloody move in.”

She tips more wine into her glass.

José smiles. “Come on, he’s got just as much right as the rest of us to go round.”

“Has he? He hasn’t known Seth for as long. Sorry, Becs – I know we met you later but it doesn’t seem like it.”

Rebecca squeezes Anna’s hand and looks pleased. It’s good to have the old Anna back, all of them on the same side again.

“And I can’t help it, I just don’t trust him. We don’t know anything about him. The phone was on the coffee table too – he could have been phoning fecking Australia for all we know.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Or a mate down the road.”

But Anna isn’t listening. “Worst of all,” she leans in. “Seth’s cigarette box was open on the table.”

José runs a hand through his hair and tries to think. “So he wanted a ciggie. It’s not a religious artefact or anything.”

Anna flares. “It was to Seth. And you know it.”

He sighs. “Look, I know what you’re saying and I don’t always know what to make of him but he’s not done anything wrong that we know of, has he?”

“What about his watch? Have you seen his new watch? It’s a fecking Rolex. Where the fuck does he get the money from to buy that?”

“I dunno, it’s probably a fake or something. Come on, woman, drink some more wine and play spot the fit guy with me. God knows we could do with some fun.”

* * * * *

Two hours later he’s holding his hand over his glass as Anna tops up the other two. She’s come round a bit. She even apologised for being off the previous week, said it was all messing with her head.

José leans back and grins at his friends across the table. “At least we’re not in his bloody flat now.”

“Yeah, it’s starting to get a bit weird, isn’t it? Maybe we should stop meeting there.”

“I don’t know, I find it vaguely comforting.”

“Like people sniffing their dead husband’s jumpers?”

“I suppose so. And he does have a good wine collection.”

It’s slightly feeble, but they’re bantering again, doing a good impression of three friends having a normal night out. If the three of them can stick together maybe it will be okay.

José nods at the red, white and blue bunting fluttering over the bar. “And I thought London was up itself before. Now it’s
Cool Britannia
this,
Cool Britannia
that. If I hear that phrase one more time I’m on the next plane back to Madrid.”

Anna grins and takes another slug of wine. “At least we can choose where we want to go now. Seth was such a control freak. Always had to be on his terms.”

None of them have ever spoken about him like this. They are saying the unsayable.

José spears an olive. “And let’s face it, it was pretty bloody unhealthy, that group.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, him in control, the rest of us competing for his attention. He must have loved it.”

The words surprise him, acidic like the house wine he’s had too much of. He’s admitted to something he didn’t know he felt, put a card on the table. For a second’s silence he wants to take it back. Then Rebecca nods.

“You’re right, José. And I guess we’re to blame too. But it’s… hard to resist him.”

“I’ve never met anyone with so much presence, charm – I don’t know what to call it.”

“Charisma.” They lock eyes then Rebecca looks down and swirls her drink. “It’s a dangerous thing.”

“But you’re setting him up as a manipulator and I don’t think that’s right.” Anna’s voice rises ominously in pitch. “Just because he isn’t here we shouldn’t forget all the great things about him. I’ve never met anyone so energising. And generous. Not just with his money, with himself.”

“No one’s saying he’s a monster, Anna. And of course he’s generous, great company, witty…” He stops, confused for a second, feeling around for more adjectives to pin Seth down.

“Like you told me, a one-off.” Rebecca smiles, breaking the tension.

“I’ll drink to that.” They clunk glasses, sip a silent toast.

“Three weeks PD today, you know. And Friday the 13th on top of that. Lucky for some. Maybe he’s back home as we speak.”

They smile sadly at each other, eyes heavy again.

After a minute Anna sighs. “I know he’s a bit of an enigma, and you’re probably right that the whole group is dysfunctional and revolves around him.” She looks around the table and sighs again. “But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s no bloody fun without him.”

Scene 12

[Enter all characters bar Seth, whose Fedora hat is spotlighted centre stage. Characters walk round and round the hat.]

[
characters peer out and sigh
]

Scene 13

This takes us up to last week. Could you talk me through what happened next, Miss Laurence?

The sun was streaming into Rebecca’s eyes when she woke. Bloody curtains didn’t meet in the middle. She caught sight of 6.48 on the bedside clock, groaned and buried her face in the pillows, knowing the game was already up. For a second the heat on her hair felt luxurious, as if she were lying on an exotic beach, sun shimmering above. Then she remembered Seth and the pleasure trickled out of her. It was like having something horrible hovering over your head all the time. Maybe he’d sent his black bird to keep watch over her while he was gone.

She sighed again and sat up in bed. The patch of sky between her thin beige curtains was dense cobalt. She could even pick out birdsong. The prospect of another glorious day had the equal and opposite effect on her, made her want to cry. Nothing seemed to mean that much now that he wasn’t here, now that there was a huge bloody big question mark carved into her soul.

Always the drama queen. But the not knowing had infected her like cancer, taking her over cell by cell. It seeped out into conversations with the man reading the gas meter. It tightened her chest when she bought a Tube ticket, imbued her favourite American sitcoms with a bittersweet edge their creators could only have dreamed of. Every time she saw something glinting on the pavement she thought it was the lost brooch, made a grab for a chocolate wrapper or abandoned penny in the gutter. She lost her appetite halfway through a meal, staring suddenly at a tuna baguette as if someone else had put it into her hand. But the weight loss didn’t even make her particularly happy, since there was no one to appreciate it. He tumbled round and round her thoughts on a rapid spin cycle until, at times, when she’d had too much coffee and solitude, she visualised her head starting to splinter like an egg hatching.

On those occasions, too many of them recently, she did the only thing she could think of to block it all out. The only thing that brought her a bit closer to him. Sometimes she imagined that he was there in the room, watching her, and on those occasions she took it slowly, revelling in the sensory distraction, playing to an audience. But more often the despair that powered her right hand made her hurt herself, using the handle of her hairbrush like a weapon, a scarf tied tight round her eyes, trying to bring him back. She’d given herself two urine infections and the doctor had lectured her on tampon hygiene. Afterwards it was always the same shame and loneliness but the next day she’d be doing it again.

She needed to find him. She had to know what had happened, where he was, she needed to talk to him and feel the warmth of his eyes on her face. Fuck it, she needed to kiss him, to hold him, to drown in the tide that had swept them towards each other. She needed to say
sorry and you bastard and I love you and don’t ever leave me again and why?

Why?

The trembling started between her legs and she reached for the hairbrush she now kept by her bed. Her hand locked around the ridged handle and paused. She could go to the kitchen instead and start her coffee-making ritual but nothing would change, no one would observe her plight and come to save her or give her the information she had to have. She was alone and it was terrifying.

On top of all that she had money worries. She’d tipped over her overdraft limit and needed to phone her parents to get her through until next week when
No Exit
rehearsals started. Of course they’d help her but they’d be worried, and she’d have to pretend.

She pulled the hairbrush under the covers. There was only one fantasy anymore and it wasn’t a fantasy, it had really happened. It was the only thing that still connected her to him.

The phone started to ring and her eyes blinked open. For a second she listened. Then she ran for it. No one rang her at this time.

Scene 14

“Hey Becs, sorry to phone you so early.”

“Oh – hi, Anna.” Rebecca’s voice is hollow.

“Look, I’ve been lying in bed thinking about what we can do next to find Seth. And I think I’ve had an idea.”

“Right.” There’s something like a sigh at the other end.

“I know what Jake said – about not snooping around – but I think we need to fill in as many gaps as possible. Look – can I come over and talk to you?”

Fifteen minutes later, Rebecca opens the door looking as jaded as her old green dressing gown. They talk over black treacly coffee that makes Anna grimace.

“So, are you up for it?”

“Today?”

“Yes. I’ve checked with his secretary that he’s around. He thinks he’s getting a visit from a couple of mature students.”

Rebecca blinks. “So you’ve already set it up?”

“Yes. I’m going anyway. But I’d really like it if you came too.”

A second’s pause. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Anna grins. “Excellent. Get in the shower and I’ll make us some breakfast. Where’s your bread?”

The place needed a damn good clean. It would drive her mad to be surrounded by so much clutter. She finds margarine, low fat, of course, in the fridge and little else, only a tub of cream cheese that instinct tells her not to open. Rebecca appears in a black T-shirt with something in-your-face printed on it.

“There’s cream cheese if you want it. Here – oh shit. That stuff goes off so fast. Sorry.”

She opens the bin lid and shoves the container down on a pile of rubbish. Anna wrinkles her nose at the smell of fish as Rebecca grins an apology. “Shaz’s turn to do the bins.”

“No worries – I’ll bring your toast to your room, shall I?”

Rebecca turns. “Sorry?”

“Well, you can’t go like that – we won’t stand a chance. Let’s have a look through your wardrobe.”

* * * * *

After a small scene Rebecca left the house in hip-hugging white jeans and stripy blue cropped top, finished off with a dusting of blusher and various things from black tubes that brought her eyes to life. Although she moaned about Anna’s tactics, Anna could see she was amused and flattered too. Exactly what she’d banked on. Assuming Dr Cuddly was of heterosexual persuasion – and hopefully, being married, he was – she felt confident their double act could win him round. She glanced over at her passenger, currently resembling a mad Medusa in the head wind. There was something a bit fragile about her today. She needed to pull herself together for all of them.

“Hey – you okay? Do you want me to put the roof on?”

Rebecca shook her head and tried again to twist her hair into her top. She shouted something back that included the word ‘banshee’ and they both grinned and resumed their reveries. It was amazing how often the car had saved her from unwanted small talk.

“If necessary, you could always cry.” Anna spoke casually while she fiddled around with the roof in the car park.

“Cry?”

Anna took a breath, trying to stay patient. “Well, if he won’t tell us anything. Say you’re desperate, you’ll do anything, that kind of stuff. You know better than me.” She caught sight of Rebecca’s indignant face. “Come on, you’re an actress.”