What Have I Done? (23 page)

‘Where you going with that?’ He grinned and pointed at the helmet.

‘Dunno, any suggestions?’

Her retort might have been sexy were it not for the sad familiarity with which the words dripped from her glossed lips, and the Lolita-like pose that she had been perfecting for a while. It was how she got things done, reeled them in, gave them what they wanted, felt loved.

Rodney sauntered across to where she stood and slowly pulled her behind the bar. She giggled, but didn’t find any of it funny. It was a laugh that they expected, a laugh that gave them permission:
it’s okay to carry on, just a bit of harmless fun.

Gripping her from behind, he breathed into the back of her neck, inhaling the scent of her young body. Slipping his hand under the thin material of her T-Shirt, flat-palmed against white skin, he drew small circles that warmed the space they touched. Tanya turned around slowly until she faced the man that would seduce her. He was old. She studied the creases and lines that traversed his sagging face and noted the coarse hair that sprouted in trimmed clumps.

She smirked at his inexpert kissing. She’d assumed that an older lover would have mastered the art, but apparently not. He felt huge against her tiny frame, a giant that she would fell. His impatience amused her; fumbling at belts and snatching at buttons, he grabbed and pawed, his need urgent. She smirked in recognition of the fact that they were all the same when it came right down to it, aged twenty, thirty, forty or fifty… At this point, it was all about a need, a longing and an ache that she could satisfy. With her eyes closed, all her lovers past and present were remarkably similar.

The mismatched pair slid down onto the sticky red linoleum behind the bar. The smell of beer and the sugary scent of spilt wine was overwhelming. There were no words of seduction, no affection or intimacies of love. This was an act of pure physicality, animalistic, verging on aggressive.

Tanya laughed into his plaid-clad, middle-aged shoulder, which had long since lost its definition. She enjoyed the brief power, it was always this way. This was the moment when she felt supreme. She radiated at the thrall in which she held the local big-wig, he of powerful car and fat cigar, a connoisseur
of life’s finer things. For a few seconds this union would make her too feel like a finer thing.

She wanted the pace to be slow; she hoped for a few words of tenderness. She got neither.

Her spike of elation was not to last. All too quickly the pair were restoring clothing, tucking in hems and patting down wilful hair. This aftermath was conducted in silence, not the awkward variety, but, judging by Rodney’s expression, a hush born of disgust.

Tanya’s sense of omnipotence was immediately and forcibly replaced with a deep self-loathing, a feeling that was more comfortable, familiar.

Rodney jangled the keys in her direction, informing her it was home time. Her humiliation was complete; he wasn’t wasting any words on her. The best he could manage was an action, the rattling of chunks of metal to coerce her, in the way one might distract a baby or quiet a rowdy pet. As he reached over, she hoped to feel the caress of his palm against her face; it would have helped. Instead, he pinched her cheek, in the way one might a naughty nephew, or as if he were a cane-wielding schoolmaster.

He dropped her off at the bottom of the driveway. She had barely placed her feet on the ground when the Kawasaki roared off into the night. The honey glow of Kate’s carefully positioned lamps shone through the windows of Prospect House. Tanya eased her key into the lock.

Kate was on the sofa, blanket bound and reading.

‘Hello, love. Good evening?’

‘Yeah, not bad. If shagging on the bar floor is your idea of a good evening.’

She wanted to shock, transfer some of the tension to this woman who was easy prey.

Kate sat up,
The Time Traveler’s Wife
suddenly of less interest than the topic in hand.

‘Actually, no, it isn’t. I’m a bit old-fashioned like that, preferring at least a mattress, a decent courtship or a bag of chips first, but that’s just me.’

Kate refused to take the bait. She’d seen it all before, heard it all before. She suppressed the many questions that danced on her tongue. Who is he? Why are you doing this? Are you okay? Hurt? Happy?

Kate unwrapped the blanket from her legs and closed her book. Henry DeTamble would just have to stay missing somewhere in time until she could pick up his trail again. She knew he would understand, given that he was always having to suffer the inconvenience of disappearing at the most crucial moments.

‘Well, as long as you are home safe and sound, I think I’ll turn my toes in.’

Tanya stumbled forward and sat down on the sofa next to Kate. Her tears fell quietly, snaking their way into her open mouth. She was not usually given to mournful reflection, but it was as if by being in this wonderful place, she expected her life to be different,
she
expected to be different. But it wasn’t. She wasn’t. Whether with the old gang trying to score a hit or here in this picture-postcard village by the sea, it would always be her that gave the boys what they wanted, her that only knew how to seduce, but not how to love.

‘Oh Kate, Kate…’

‘It’s okay, lovey, you are home and you are safe.’

She cradled the girl’s slight frame against her own and spoke into her scalp.

‘It will all feel a bit better in the morning, you wait and see. It’ll pass, everything does.’

Kate smiled as she regurgitated the advice a good friend had once given her.

The two sat until Tanya drifted into sleep. Kate extricated herself, taking care not to wake her. She needed the escape that sleep offered. Kate tucked the pale pink lambswool blanket around her charge’s slender shoulders and pushed a cushion under her cheek. Tanya was calm, for now.

‘Morning all!’

Tom was in good spirits.

‘Just seen Rodney on the deck of his boat looking like a right plonker! God, if he’s not racing around on that ridiculous bloody motorbike, he’s poncing about on that boat!’

Kate seized the moment. She popped on her trainers, snuck out of the back door and trotted off down the lane. She tried to calm her rising pulse, tried not to jump to any conclusions. It wasn’t often she knew where to find Rodney, and this was just the opportunity she’d been looking for.

She found him on the deck of
Lady of Penmarin
, his rather ostentatious yacht, wearing a naff sailing hat with gold braiding and a large anchor embroidered on the front, the kind of cap you could pick up at any of the local gift shops for a few quid. He was busy coiling rope, which even though she was a novice sailor, Kate could tell was a futile chore, designed so that he could show off in full view on the deck. Tom had phrased it perfectly: a right plonker.

‘Rodney, hi!’

Kate waved from the pontoon.

‘It’s Cap’n Rodney when I am on my seafaring maiden!’

‘Righto. I was wondering if I might have a word?’

Kate ignored his joviality; she was in no mood for high jinks.

‘Yes of course, come aboard!’

‘Urgh, I was afraid you’d say that.’

Kate groaned. She was an ungainly yachtswoman, clinging to rigging and placing each foot hesitantly for fear of ending up in the drink.

‘What a lovely surprise, Kate! Come into my lair…’

Rodney indicated the cabin steps and twitched his rather unkempt eyebrows like the classic caricature lech.

‘I’d rather not. I’d prefer to just say my piece and then go.’

‘Oh, that sounds ominous.’

‘I want to talk to you about Tanya.’

‘Ah, the delightful Tanya – talk away!’

‘This isn’t funny, Rodney, far from it. In fact I’ve come to ask you to stay away from her.’

Rodney laughed and shook his head slightly as though in disbelief.

‘I don’t know what tales of wrongdoing she’s been running up the hill with, but let me assure you that she was more than—’

‘She hasn’t mentioned you, not once.’ Kate interrupted him. ‘It’s me that has the problem, not her. Any relationship you might envisage having with her can only do her harm in the long run and I care enormously about Tanya, about all the girls.’

‘Relationship? Good God! I think you are rather jumping the gun there.’

Rodney laughed loudly at the very idea.

‘I see. Well, that says it all really. Do you know, Rodney, you are an arsehole and a bastard and an arsehole!’

‘You already said arsehole.’

‘I know, but I’m not very good at swearing in public and it’s all I could think of twice.’

‘Is there something else going on here, Kate, old girl? Is that a little bit of the green-eyed monster I detect? Maybe it’s not fair because Kate is a lonely girl?’

He winked at her.

‘Oh, please! You make me sick, Rodney. Let me ask you a question: how did you become the person you are? How did your unfortunate personality take shape?’

He stared at her, unsure whether she was expecting an answer or not. She wasn’t.

Kate continued.

‘I bet if you were anything like me, it was because of the people you met, places you went, your education, holidays you took, foreign travel, chatting to people from different backgrounds, races, religions.’

‘I guess.’

He shrugged and scratched at his scalp under his hat. His grip on the topic was somewhat loose; he wished she would get to the point.

‘Well, Tanya has had none of those opportunities, not yet. She may look like a grown-up and even sound like one at times, but she is anything but. I want you to leave her alone and give her the chance to experience life without being lassoed by someone old enough to be her father, if not grandfather! I am asking you to stay away from her because she is fragile and I am not about to look the other way and watch her get damaged further by your little dalliance.’

‘Oh please, Kate. Dalliance? That is a very sweet term applied to what was nothing more than a drunken fumble between two willing parties. I think you are overdramatising and for your information, I have no intention of repeating the event. Where Tanya is concerned, my curiosity is more than satisfied.’

He stood tall, using his physicality to make the point.

Kate saw the smirk on his florid face, watched the sneer to his mouth as he said Tanya’s name and she saw red. How dare he use this little girl to ‘satisfy’ a whim, how dare he do that to Tanya?

‘You are a fucking shit, Rodney, a disgusting excuse of a man and a joke. You strut around Penmarin because you put a few shekels into a few restaurants and you think you own the bloody place. You are widely disliked by those who allow you to buy them drinks, did you know that? You are a creep and a tosser. You are a very small fish in a very small pond and that makes you nothing. Arsehole.’

Rodney was speechless.

Kate turned on her heel and with confidence made her way off the deck and onto the pontoon. Natasha was right; having a good old rant with a few choice swearwords thrown in for good measure was really quite cathartic.

Kate swallowed hard as waves of sickness swept her body. Her hands shook and her stomach flipped itself into knots. Her exchange with Rodney had physically shaken her. It had been a while since aggression had featured in her daily routine and its reintroduction left her reeling.

She took a deep breath before entering the kitchen; she didn’t want anyone to see her this agitated.

‘Everything all right, boss?’

Tom was elbow deep in washing-up suds.

‘Yes, Tom, fine.’

Her smile lasted no longer than a second.

Tom nodded at the deep window sill.

‘Tanya’s left you a note.’

‘A note? Why?’

Tom shrugged and pursed his lips. How should he know?

Kate read the hastily scrawled text and dropped her forehead into her hands.

‘Oh shoot!’

‘Would a cup of tea help?’

Tom wiped his arms on a tea towel and reached for the kettle.

Kate nodded.

‘She’s gone back to London.’

‘For good?’

‘No. She says for “a bit”, although what that means I’m not sure. Ooh I could kick myself, she needs to be here!’

Kate thumped the table top. It was hard for her to accept the lack of control she had over those she most wanted to help.
Dominic, Lydia, Tanya
…

‘She’ll be back, boss. Doesn’t sound like she’s got much up there.’

Kate nodded, hoping desperately that he was right, and headed for the door. She would go down to the beach to gather her thoughts.

The beeping of a horn heralded Janeece’s arrival and jolted Kate from her morose reflections. Tom had obviously directed her to the beach.

‘Hello! Hello!’

‘Oi! You is in my seat!’

Their old comedy routine still made them both laugh.

Kate waved from her blanket and practised her smile.

‘I think you’ll find it’s anyone’s seat actually!’

‘Jesus, Kate! I swear to God Penmarin moves half an hour further away every time I come!’

Janeece plonked herself down on the damp sand, enveloping Kate in a large hug, releasing her when she was good and ready.

‘Oh bloody hell, now I’ve creased me linen!’

‘You look lovely.’

Kate meant it. Today Janeece had chosen a grass-green linen shift with a dazzling array of buttons and beads sewn around the neck and cuffs, over hot pink, cropped jeans with the same design around the hem. Janeece knew how to flatter her Amazonian frame with bold prints and bright colours that more diminutive characters would shirk from.

‘And we don’t move further away; it’s that rubbishy car of yours. I keep saying, take the jeep, we can swap. Mine’s more robust for longer journeys and your Deux Chevaux will do me fine for pottering to the station or the shops.’

‘Sssshhh, she might hear you. Cars have feelings too, you know, and I would never trade my Bessie in. She’s the first big thing I ever bought and I love her!’

‘You get more sentimental with age, Jan.’

‘Mental yes, not sure about the “senti” bit!’

‘How’re the kids?’