Anywhere's Better Than Here (15 page)

‘‘Steady on!'' he said. ‘‘We've the whole night ahead of us and those things are strong.''

Whether it was down to what Gerry had just said or if it really was as strong as all that, she could feel the effects of the drink in her legs already. Her shoulders dropped comfortably. Everything would be okay. They could enjoy themselves, couldn't they?

She sat back and watched Gerry drink his beer. He knocked half of it back and stared at her.

‘‘Everything okay?''

She nodded. ‘‘Yes. I was just thinking,'' she smiled, ‘‘you know, still waters …''

‘‘What do you mean?'' he frowned at her.

‘‘Well …'' she searched for the right thing to say. ‘‘We're sort of seeing each other …''

She glanced up at him.

He was looking intently at her.

She faltered.

‘‘Uh huh,'' he encouraged her.

‘‘Well. I mean. We don't really know anything much about each other. Do we?''

He smiled but not in a way that made Laurie feel like continuing.

‘‘Well, what do you want to know Laurie? Shoe size? Hopes and dreams? Favourite colour?''

‘‘Och, look, nothing.'' She wanted to walk out of there. Why was she pursuing this?

He made an effort to sound sincere, ‘‘No, really Laurie, what do you want to know?''

She considered for a moment.

‘‘Well. I know you were in the army and I think I know now that you're originally from around here – but I don't really know anything else.'' He was looking over her head with a blank expression on his face. ‘‘You don't know anything about me either, do you?'' He still didn't look at her. She knocked back the rest of her drink. ‘‘Forget it.'' She stood up. ‘‘Do you want another drink?''

He looked at her again and nodded. ‘‘But you sit down,'' he stood up and pressed gently on her shoulder. ‘‘I'll get it.''

‘‘Okay.'' She looked up at him, trying to read his expression, but he had that polite look on again.

‘‘What would you like Madam?'' he asked in a James Mason voice. Despite herself, she laughed.

‘‘Definitely the same again.''

‘‘Coming right up Madam.''

Laurie was at a complete loss about what he was thinking about. It could be anything. He could be anyone. For all she knew, he could be a recently released murderer. He could be planning on chopping her up! She started to laugh.

‘‘What?'' Gerry asked.

‘‘Nothing, nothing.'' She shooed him away, ‘‘Come on, get the drinks in, I'm parched!''

‘‘Okay. Okay.'' He backed away.

She watched him walk over to the bar again. Again she admired his broad back and his height. No. There was no way Gerry was a murderer. He was just secretive. But everyone had their secrets, didn't they? She hadn't been wholly honest about Ed with Gerry and, really, what good would it do to tell him everything? Technically she supposed they were having an affair, and it wouldn't do to know too much about the person your sort-of girlfriend was living with. It might make Gerry jealous and difficult. She tried to picture Gerry being jealous and difficult, but she couldn't make him work up the enthusiasm. He just looked mildly disgruntled.

Gerry arrived back at the table. He handed her the cocktail and sat down with his pint.

‘‘You know we were going to go and see a film?''

Laurie nodded.

‘‘Do you mind if we just sit and drink instead? Have some food here?''

‘‘No. Not at all.'' The films in the Art Centre were all foreign. She couldn't be bothered to read subtitles. Not that you could admit that to anyone without sounding like a moron. They were always pretty heavy too and she couldn't be bothered with any dead children or wars or grinding poverty either.

‘‘What's on anyway?''

‘‘Either a French film about child abuse or a Dutch one about Bosnia.''

‘‘Bosnia?'' she studied his face. He was giving nothing away. He just nodded.

‘‘Gerry? Were you in Bosnia?'' She tried to look interested, but not intensely so.

‘‘Was that the sort of thing you wanted to know?''

‘‘Yes. I mean, you don't have to go into it or anything. I would just like to know a wee bit about you. You know, some biographical details.'' She smiled.

Gerry considered for a moment.

‘‘I was in Bosnia and other places: Kuwait, Afghanistan. It was heavy and then I left the army.'' ‘‘Okay.'' She took a drink. ‘‘Can I ask you any questions?''

He thought about it. ‘‘I'd rather you didn't.''

‘‘Fair enough.'' She took another drink. ‘‘Were you injured?''

‘‘That's a question Laurie.'' He took a drink. ‘‘No I wasn't injured.''

Something about the way he said injured stopped her from pressing him further.

‘‘Okay,'' she said and reached out and put her hand on his.

‘‘Okay,'' he said and turned his hand over and squeezed her hand.

***

The walk home was fun. They played a game where one person sang the first little bit of a song and the other one had to guess what song it was. Despite the fact that Gerry was quite a nice singer Laurie wasn't able to guess any of the songs.

‘‘What do you mean you don't know it?'' laughed Gerry as he tried repeatedly to get the key into the lock of his close door.

‘‘Here,'' she nudged him out of the way. ‘‘Let me do that.''

She scrabbled the key about for a minute before getting it in the lock.

‘‘I've never heard of it.'' She turned back to him and he leaned forward and pressed her up against the door.

He whispered into her ear, ‘‘You've never heard of ‘‘Slave to Love''?'' he leaned against her and Laurie caught her breath.

‘‘No,'' she pushed her pelvis into him. ‘‘I haven't.''

He pulled her towards him with one hand while he quickly turned the key in the lock and held the door open with his other. Then he half lifted her, half dragged her into the hallway, shut the door behind them and nudged her up against the tiled wall. They stood like that kissing and breathing into each other for what seemed like ages before Gerry stopped and pointed in the direction of the stairs.

‘‘Listen,'' he whispered.

Laurie could hear nothing but, dimly at first and then becoming clearer until she felt like the other person was right next to her and Gerry, she became aware of someone else breathing. The breathing was jerky and laboured. The other person sounded as if they'd been running or crying.

It must be the lunatic neighbour. Gerry and Laurie stood listening. Laurie expected the woman to go back in, but there was no sign that that would happen. She looked to Gerry for guidance but he seemed at a loss too. They'd have to walk past her, but Laurie's drunkenness, which had been keeping her warm, or at least keeping her from feeling the cold, had worn off and she needed to get indoors.

‘‘Come on,'' she whispered to Gerry and pulled his arm towards the stairs. Gerry resisted briefly, then followed. As they turned the corner on the stairs, they found Gerry's neighbour sitting on the top step at her landing. She was wearing a Chinese dressing gown and her hair was big on one side and flattened on the other as if she'd just got out of bed.

‘‘Hi Theresa,'' said Gerry. Laurie was surprised by the tenderness in his voice. She looked up at him gloomily, but made no effort to move out of their way. She half smiled at Gerry and ignored Laurie altogether.

‘‘Are you okay Theresa?''

Laurie groaned. If you asked this sort of person that sort of question, you could be listening to hard luck stories for hours.

Theresa shook her head.

Laurie squeezed Gerry's hand in an effort to get him moving. He squeezed her hand back but leaned towards Theresa.

‘‘Ahm lonely Gerry.'' She reached a hand up and stroked his cheek. ‘‘Lonely.''

The woman was very drunk. She'd probably been drinking on her own all day, waiting for Gerry to come back. Pathetic. Laurie felt no sympathy for people like Theresa. As if Gerry would have any interest in her. But then … She glanced at Gerry's sympathetic face. Had he, in a moment of kindness, slept with this woman and that was why she was so obsessed with him? She narrowed her eyes at the woman and she knew, immediately, without any doubt, that he had, in fact, shagged this woman. This hideous, older, drunken woman. She shuddered. Gerry turned to look at her, making a pleading face as if to say, just one minute, just one minute to sort this out. But how could he sort it out? He'd led this woman on and given her hope and now there was no way out of it for him unless he moved away.

‘‘Gerry?''

He turned to her pleadingly.

Theresa looked up at her too with hate in her small, pouchy eyes.

‘‘It's late,'' Laurie went up a step. ‘‘Come on.''

Gerry pulled back from Theresa's hand and rubbed at his forehead.

‘‘Is yer mammy expecting you?'' the old bag laughed at her.

‘‘Shut it you,'' Laurie said, narrowing her eyes at the woman and nudging Gerry to get moving.

Gerry nodded. ‘‘See you around Theresa.''

‘‘Aye,'' said the woman, ‘‘that you will.'' She stepped back into her doorway to let them past but remained there watching them turn the corner of the stairs.

Gerry opened the door to his flat and directed Laurie into the hallway.

‘‘Here we are,'' he said, not looking at her. ‘‘Here. Let me take that.'' He took her coat, shook it out and hung it neatly on a coat hanger in the hall closet.

She followed him into the living room. What now? The atmosphere had gone, Theresa's slovenly appearance had seen to that quick smart.

She hung about by the door of the living room feeling like the last unwanted guest at a party. The guest with nowhere to go, no one to be with.

Gerry stood at the window, his hands in the pockets of his coat. He was making no move to get things started again and Laurie couldn't think of anything to say to get them back on track.

Gerry turned to her. ‘‘Laurie,'' he took a few seconds, ‘‘maybe you'd better leave.''

‘‘What?'' She wasn't exactly surprised but she still felt a kind of shock moving through her.

‘‘I think it would be better if you left.'' He spoke calmly. His face was patient and grown up. She knew he was trying to move her along gently which in some way made her feel even more upset.

‘‘Why?'' She hated the whine in her voice. She was showing him too much. She should be storming out of here.

‘‘I just think it would be better if we slowed things down a bit.'' He sighed and held his hands out. ‘‘Everything's going too fast. We don't know each other at all.''

‘‘Is that it?'' She stared at him. ‘‘Will we see each other again?''

‘‘Do you actually want to?'' He frowned.

‘‘Yes.'' She hated herself. She wished she could just walk out of here and not give it another moment's thought, but it appeared she did have some feelings for him.

‘‘Are you sure?'' He looked unconvinced.

‘‘Yes.'' She felt her shoulders drop and shook her head. ‘‘Yes I am.'' He moved over to her and squeezed her shoulder. ‘‘Let's just see what happens, eh?''

It was a parents' ‘‘let's see,'' meaning, ‘‘not a hope''.

She took a step backwards so his hand fell from her and walked out of the room into the hall way.

‘‘My coat.'' She scowled back over her shoulder. ‘‘I need my coat.'' She stood in the dark of the hall waiting for Gerry to come out.

She felt like going into his room and lying down on his bed. Whether to fall asleep or at a last ditch, pathetic attempt at seduction she didn't really know. But then Gerry was there, holding her coat out to her, his face kind and still and maddeningly patient.

She took her coat and he helped her into it and laid his hands on her collar bones. She felt the touch of his fingers, the weight of his hands. The heat from him radiated out across her shoulders.

They stood like that for a moment and then Laurie left the flat.

She didn't look back at him as she made her way down the stairs but she knew, firmly, definitively, that if he'd called after her, she'd have run back up there as fast as she could.

Sometimes she felt like throttling herself.

Marie poured Laurie a cup of tea and offered her a Hob Nob, hovering for a second over her. Laurie said thank you and pretended to be looking over Marie's shoulder at the notice board, scrutinising the adverts about hygiene. The other two women were talking about their teenage children in exasperated tones. They were complaining about the mess they made and their complete inability to put empty milk cartons into the bin but it was obvious to Laurie that they loved their kids' uselessness and dreaded the point where they became superfluous.

Had her mother ever had this kind of conversations with her friends? She couldn't see it. She couldn't really see her mother sitting with a group of friends and just chatting. Her mum had been a great one for committees and organisations. Any group chat would have been minuted and worthy; Palestinian aid efforts, woodland trails, community dental visits.

She remembered her mother sitting at the kitchen table stuffing envelope after envelope for some important cause. She must have been eleven or twelve at the time, but she could have been any age – envelope stuffing was an ongoing activity for her mother. She could remember the growl of hunger and the sound of Newsround on the TV behind her as she stood next to the kitchen table waiting for a break in her mother's concentration. She stood for long minutes but her mother didn't notice her, she was so intent on her task. Eventually, probably because Laurie was blocking her light, she'd looked up at her daughter and blinked. Laurie smiled at her and she reached a hand out and put it on Laurie's elbow, squeezed and gently nudged her.