As Far as You Can Go (19 page)

‘Well, well,’ Larry says.
‘At last
. Perhaps you’ve found your muse.’

‘Isn’t that for poetry?’ Graham twists his neck up to see the sharp glint of tooth just visible at the corner of Larry’s mouth where his lips don’t quite meet. He looks down at his drawing. Can see where the final line should go, diagonal.

Larry chuckles dryly. ‘As you will. You’ve found inspiration, then. And, I gather, a source of mutual satisfaction?’

Graham rolls a pencil between his fingers, reading as it goes round, 3B, 3B, 3B. He takes a deep breath. ‘Fred here yet?’

‘No, my mistake it seems. Cassie will be delighted that you’ve found yourself inspired. But will she be so pleased with
how
?’

The roof lifts and clangs. Graham can hear the metallic sound in the fillings at the back of his mouth.

‘I mean, of course, you and Mara.’

Graham coughs, a laugh like a splinter catching in his throat.
‘Me and
Mara
? Are you
serious
?’ His voice rises as the wind woo-hoos.

‘Gracious me,’ Larry says, ‘we are in for a storm.’

‘I did what you asked.’

‘A bit more than that I believe. I think, in actual fact, you rather took advantage of the situation and forced yourself upon her when she was upset.’

‘You
what
?’

‘I wonder what Cassie will think?’

The pencil snaps between Graham’s fingers. Tiny dot of graphite like the shrunken pupil of an eye. ‘She wouldn’t believe such crap.’

‘It’s what Mara says.’

‘Oh, get fucked. Do you think Cassie would believe
Mara
before she believed me?’

‘Well.’ Larry leans forward, his voice too close to Graham’s ear. ‘All the same, it would be better not to mention it – just in case Cassie’s faith in your, er, capacity for the truth is not as touchingly solid as you seem to believe.’

‘Oh, you think you know her better than me, do you?’ Graham gets up, deliberately knocking the chair over behind him. His knuckles itch to grind themselves in Larry’s face.

Larry steps back. ‘So,’ he says. ‘We’ll say not a word and tomorrow you’ll paint Mara.’

‘No.’

‘You’ll paint Mara and if she wants any other attentions from you you’ll provide them.’ Again the roof clangs. ‘Must get that fixed.’

A trickle of sweat creeps down the side of Graham’s face. His heart thumps. ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ he says.

‘Sorry?’ Larry takes a step towards the door.

‘I thought I “forced myself upon her”?’

‘There’s always another point of view, don’t you find?’

‘What are you saying?’

‘All I’m saying is that you ought to do anything you can to please her. Poor Mara. She is, her
happiness
is, my
raison d’être
. The reason for this whole establishment. And Cassie need never know.’

‘You want me to fuck your wife? What’s the matter, can’t get it up?’

A muscle twitches in Larry’s jaw. Ha. A
reaction
. But he doesn’t speak.

‘So, what, you’re pimping for her now? Listen, we want to leave. OK? You’re
sick
.’

Larry steps towards him, eyes narrowed. He lifts his finger, about to speak but Graham cannot stop it, anger rushes from his gut along his arm into his fist and smashes into Larry’s face. Blood bursts from his nose. His hands fly to cup it, he brings them away, looks at the shiny red dripping through his fingers and back at Graham.

*

The wind gets into the kitchen, gusting grit and rubbish about on the floor, making the fly screen rattle. Fred didn’t come and she could cry with the disappointment. No post and no cheese. She hates the wind. How can you make a decent pizza without cheese? But it’s too late now, dough made and rolled out.

The door opens and Larry comes in, bleeding from his nose, splash of red on the front of his shirt.

‘Oh my
God!’
she says. ‘What happened? Sit down –’ She fetches the first-aid box and pulls out a wad of cotton wool. ‘Here. What happened?’ The way he looks at her, her heart sinks.
Please
let it not be Graham.

‘Well,’ he says, dabbing at his nose, his voice thickened as if he’s got a cold. ‘Your boyfriend has certainly got some temper.’

‘Oh no. He
didn’t? Why?
’

His nostrils bubble thin blood, his moustache pinks.

‘Have some more cotton wool. Oh God, it’s not broken, is it?
Why
did he hit you?’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand it. I merely enquired about his session with Mara this morning and he –’ He makes a hopeless gesture. He’s lost his usual poise, looks quite upset.

‘Shall I make you some tea, or –? Oh God.’ Cassie sits down, hides her face in her hands for a moment. She looks up. ‘What’s he doing now?’

‘Cooling off, I hope.’

‘I’m
really
sorry. I know he’s a bit – a bit
wild
sometimes, but he hasn’t had a fight for I don’t know
how
long. Not since I’ve known him.’

‘You did say he wouldn’t harm a fly.’

‘No, well, he wouldn’t! That’s the stupid thing, he wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone, it’s just if he loses it.’

‘Loses control?’

‘Yes, sort of.’

‘He seems to do so with remarkable facility.’

‘No, not usually,’ she says. ‘Something must have made him mad –’

Larry shakes his head. ‘I don’t know what I could have said.’

‘I’m
so
sorry,’ she says, wringing her hands. ‘I don’t know what else to say. He
is
very uptight just now. We had a bit of a – Look, what about a brandy or something? There’s some in the pantry?’

He dabs at his nose again and winces. ‘Good idea. If you’ll join me.’

‘Well –’ Last thing she wants is a brandy, but what the hell.

She pours it into a couple of glasses. Is about to say cheers but it doesn’t quite seem appropriate. The hot gold makes her cough.

‘I suppose that’s it then,’ she says. ‘I mean – you’ll want us to leave.’

He sips his brandy, pinches the bridge of his nose, gazes at her for a moment. ‘What do
you
want?’

‘Well –’ She bites her thumbnail, a little wad of raw dough gets in her mouth, she pinches it between her teeth and swallows it. ‘Maybe we
should.’

‘Give up?’ He looks disappointed in her. ‘And you were doing so well. You’ll have lasted even less long than the others.’

‘Oh,’ she says, not wanting
that
. She finds that she feels oddly competitive with these strangers. ‘But surely
you
won’t want us to stay, now?’

He gazes at her. His eyes are kind, sad, grey eyes, lines of experience and even suffering around them. ‘What was your aim, in coming here?’ he says.

‘You
know
. I told you.’

‘Have you reached a conclusion? About you and –’ It’s as if he can’t bear to say the name. He dabs at his swelling nose.

‘Not really,’ she says, and sighs. The brandy has burnt a trail from her tongue to the pit of her stomach. She feels the muscles in her shoulders give a little. Larry is not angry, not with her at least. ‘I think, maybe after a few more weeks we might – well, I feel maybe we were
getting
somewhere. He’d told me the truth about something I needed to know and horrible though it is I feel better about it. It’s always better to know the worst, isn’t it?’

He coughs out a small laugh. ‘Is it?’

‘And – I
think
he’s getting into some painting.’

‘He was painting just now.’

‘Was he?’

‘So. Would you like to stay?’

‘Don’t think
he
will!’

‘But you?’

She looks away. His eyes are almost too intense. The thought of home, Patsy, her own bed, her garden, almost makes her giddy with longing. But she does
hate
to give up and Larry would be disappointed in her. She doesn’t want him to be disappointed. ‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘I – I suppose I
would
prefer to give it a bit longer.’

‘He could go and you could stay?’ Larry suggests.

‘
No
, no, if he wants to go, I’ll have to go with him.’

‘Well, perhaps he’ll stay. We’ll have to see, won’t we? Mara
would be sad to see you go – and so would I.’ He reaches out his hand and takes hers for a moment.

‘Would you?’ She blushes violently and pulls her hand away.

‘You know, the substance I mentioned earlier –’ he says, ‘this is precisely the sort of thing it might prevent. It might settle him down.’

She bites her lip. ‘No –’

He leans forward. ‘There are no side effects,’ he says, ‘if that’s what’s worrying you. That’s the wonder of this new generation of pharmaceuticals, they are precisely targeted. Smart-Ceut will be the brand name. No side effects. A subtle behavioural enhancement, a calming effect – we’re on the brink of a revolution. In ten years’ time, you won’t think twice.’

‘But he’d
never
take it.’

‘You could administer it yourself. Put it this way, I think probably it’s the only way to get what you want. If you want to stay –’

‘I do want us to stay, at least for a while.’

‘Then it might prevent,’ he indicates his nose, and half smiles, ‘further incident.’

She stares at him. ‘Is this some sort of
condition
– for us staying?’

‘Good gracious no! What do you take me for?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t really think that, I –’

‘I’m simply trying to help you to get what you want.’

The circles of dough on the table are rising flabbily, cracking at their edges.

‘I couldn’t do that though.’

‘Here,’ he reaches into his trouser pocket and brings out a small phial of white pills. ‘Easily soluble,’ he says.

She takes them, rolls the phial, looking at the contents tumble inside.

‘No,’ she says, ‘I
couldn’t
.’ She tries to hand them back but
Larry’s hands are behind his back. The blood is drying on his moustache.

‘Hang on to them, for now.’ He smiles. ‘In case you change your mind.’

‘Well, OK.’ She takes them and puts them in her pocket. Later she’ll go out and chuck them in the dunny.

*

‘What on
earth
is the matter with you?’ She finds Graham lying face down on the bed. She slams the door but not in time to stop a rush of dust blowing in, lifting the rug from the floor. Rogue gusts penetrate the room, the roof lifts and bangs back down. ‘I can’t
believe
you punched Larry!
Why?
’

He rolls over on to his side. ‘Because he gets on my fucking tits,’ he says.

‘But what did he do? What did he say?’

He looks at her mutinously.

‘You’re nearly forty, Graham!’

‘I am
not
nearly forty,’ he says.

‘Thirty-seven next year. Near as damn it. When are you going to act it?’

He seems to contract into himself as she watches. He sits up, cups his hurt hand in the other. ‘I suppose he came squealing to you?’

She sits down on the bed, sighing. ‘Let me see.’ He lets her take his hand. The knuckles are reddened and swelling. ‘You’re hopeless,’ she says, anger fizzling out. ‘Do you want to leave?’

‘Course I fucking do.’

‘Gray.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Thought you were homesick?’

‘I am but – Oh God, you’re hopeless.’ She strokes his long fingers, the little black hairs on the backs of each, on the back of his
hands that have always turned her on. The circlet of black hairs round his wrists, the beautiful hairs on his arms that feel so good around her. ‘I only started on pizzas because Larry said Fred was coming. They’ll be horrid without cheese,’ she says miserably.

‘You want to
stay
?’

‘A bit longer? Just till Christmas maybe. See how we feel then?’

‘Dunno.’ He grabs her thumb and squeezes.

‘I love you,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you ever say it to me?’

‘I wouldn’t be here, would I?’

He pulls her down. She lets herself be pulled, a twinge in her belly, as he strokes his index finger across her lips, forces it into her mouth. His finger tastes gritty, grit is everywhere, the window rattles. He kisses her. ‘You’re
gorgeous,’
he breathes, feathering the tip of his tongue against her upper lip. She kisses him, hijacked by desire. She puts her legs round his thigh and presses herself against him. But he stops and sits up.

‘What?’

‘Thirty-six is a lot different from forty,’ he says, reaching for his tobacco tin.

‘Sorry,’ she says.

They sit in silence while he makes a roll-up against his knee.

‘I did a painting today. Sketch for,’ he says, flicking his lighter.

‘Yes?’

‘England. Derbyshire. Hills and walls. Wanna go back, Cass.’

She takes hold of his hand again, grit between their skins. Tries to read his face, his eyes. He won’t look straight into hers. Her heart sags. She drops his hand. ‘It’s Jas, isn’t it? You want to see her.’

‘
No
.’ He sighs out smoke. ‘How many more times? It’s
you
Cassie,
you
. With Jas I didn’t – it didn’t mean anything. It just happened.’

She gazes at him until he looks down and flushes. ‘The sad thing is,’ she says, ‘that I believe you. Poor Jas.’

He shrugs.

‘Is it, is it likely to happen again?’ She tries to make her voice brisk.

He shakes his head. ‘It was a mistake. I was being a prat. Not thinking. I’m sorry.’

‘You never do think though, do you?’

He does look more sorry than she’s ever seen him. His eyes have a shine as if he might be close to tears.

She takes a deep breath. ‘So you will, you will be – your word – true?’

He nods, looking at her with a spark of hope.

‘And we’ll stay?’ she says.

‘Do we have to?’ He smiles at her, the sort of smile that could charm a door open but she hardens her heart.

‘Larry’s going to give us one more chance. He’s being really decent about it.’

Graham snorts.

‘What?’

But he shakes his head.

‘If you want,’ she pauses and takes a deep breath,
‘us
, then I think we should take it.’ She picks up his hand again, strokes his fingers. Raises his hand to her mouth and sucks the end of his middle finger. Taste of salt and paint and skin. The sexy feeling rises up inside her again like a tide.