Heartbreak Hotel (12 page)

‘With Charlie it was DIY,’ said Nyange. ‘I hadn’t a clue. Like, what’s a Rawlplug?’

‘I’ve never heard of this Charlie,’ said Buffy. ‘Tell me about him.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Nyange. ‘It was over long ago.’

‘But –’

‘Dad, it’s history.’

Sita was chattering on. ‘See, I need my car for my work. I can’t take the Tube, I’ve got boundary issues.’

‘Boundary issues?’ asked Voda.

‘She means being near other people,’ said Nyange.

Buffy, brooding on his inadequacies as a father, hadn’t been listening. It was only now that something Sita had said snagged in his mind.
I need to feel empowered
.

It was getting chilly. Voda got up and closed the back door.

‘Coffee, anyone?’ she asked.

Buffy’s skin prickled with the boldness of it – the probable madness of it. ‘How to Talk to Women’ … ‘Basic Car Maintenance’. He said: ‘I’ve got an idea.’

Andy had earache. Possibly it was a brain tumour. He leaned against the kitchen unit and gazed at his reflection. The mortal man gazed back, spectral against the dark garden. Soon he would be forty, a word that filled him with dread. Already he noticed a faltering in the stream when he pissed. Prostate, no doubt. He wasn’t usually gloomy but there had been a pile-up that morning on the North Circular – two cars overturned and wailing ambulances. It brought it home to a man; all day he had felt as frail as an invalid. He couldn’t confide in Toni, she would pooh-pooh it, tossing her hair.

Shrill laughter came from the lounge. Tonight it was out of bounds. Toni was plotting a hen party for one of her girlfriends; obeying orders, he had snuck in through the back door. Judging by the shrieks, they were well into the white wine.

Andy felt both excluded and relieved. It sounded like there were quite a few of them; he was surprised they hadn’t woken up Ryan. What were they finding so hilarious? Men and their inadequacies? Men, with particular reference to himself? Surely not, in his own home. And why did Toni never laugh like that when he and she were alone together?

Toni had left his dinner on the microwave – a cling-filmed plate of something or other. There was beer in the fridge. The problem was, he had left his
Angling Times
in the lounge. No way could he sneak in and retrieve it. He could imagine, only too well, the women’s stifled chortles when he left the room.
Angling Times
! Toni herself treated his hobby with indulgent pity, a boys-will-be-boys thing. She had once actually patted his bottom when he was leaving the house with his rods.

Andy rubbed his ear. Maybe he’d caught dengue fever. Three days ago a mosquito had bitten him at the Ruislip reservoir. He pictured himself on his deathbed, sodden with sweat, surrounded by Toni’s heartless teddy bears. When they had set up home together he had hoped she would leave her soft toys behind – indeed, he had hinted that his furry audience, their glass eyes following his every move, had an inhibiting effect on his performance. No such luck. And she called
him
immature.

The kitchen was spotless. Once in her apron, Toni was a human dynamo. The efficiency of the woman! Andy felt, as he so often did, that he was an intruder in his own home – too large, too hairy, too male. He cracked open a beer and stepped into the garden. It was blessedly quiet; the only sound was the far hum of traffic and the trickle of the water feature.

The rooftops of Wembley rose up against the suffused sky. Even in the suburbs, nothing was safe. This particular accident, for some reason, had upset him. Maybe it was the pot plants, their earth scattered over the dual carriageway. Somebody had looked forward to a blameless day of gardening, a mug of tea … He lit a cigarette. Toni believed he had given up but what the hell. One nanosecond and your life was obliterated – there on the North Circular, with drivers gawping.

Andy was by nature a cautious man. Toni had laughed, the first time they met, when he had buckled himself up in the back seat of the minicab. On her profile she had put
adventurous and fun-loving
, which was what had attracted him – to be honest, she wasn’t that great-looking. But the woman bungee-jumped! And the next weekend, she told him, she was going zorbing. Apparently this entailed rolling about in a giant ball. This seemed a strange thing to do but he had to admire her pluck, and it was this, rather than lust, that prompted him to ask her out on a second date, and his fate was sealed.

‘There you are!’

Toni grabbed his arm. Andy jumped, and flicked away his cigarette.

‘They’re just going,’ she said. ‘Come and say bye-bye.’

Toni led him into the lounge. Eight female friends, some of whom he recognised, stood around in various stages of departure.

‘This is my man, Andy,’ said Toni, her grip tightening. ‘My lover and my best friend. Most of you know him, don’t you?’ She turned to Andy. ‘Us girls have got it sorted. First we’re going to pamper ourselves big time, we’ve got a deal at the Marriott, spa treatments, San Trop, the works …’

She babbled on. They were going to Prague, hen-party central. Andy caught the words
Karlovy Lazne Club … cocktails …
As he stood there, however, he felt strangely disembodied. Was this really his home?

Of course he recognised various items of furniture as his own, the settee and so on, but how come he was living here? It had all happened so fast. One moment he was a single man and now he was a couple, he was a lover and a best friend, a year had passed in a blur and all of a sudden he was living in Wembley with a hefty mortgage and a sort of stepson, Ryan.

Women, in his experience, always took an age to leave. Finally, however, they had gone and he was eating his dinner while Toni cleared up.

‘Vicky’s a lucky girl, we’re
so
pulling the stops out.’ Toni paused, a plate in her hand. ‘Wonder if she’d do the same for me.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ She sighed, and bent to the open mouth of the dishwasher. As she stacked the plates, Andy gazed at her back view. Leggings weren’t ideal for a woman of her proportions, but of course he said nothing. Every woman he had ever met was touchy about her weight.

‘You fancied Jodie, didn’t you?’ Toni said.

‘
What?
’

‘Couldn’t keep your eyes off her tits.’

‘I haven’t a clue who you’re talking about. Which one was she?’

‘You men, honestly!’ Eyes twinkling, Toni stepped over to him and kissed the top of his head. ‘What are we going to do with you?’ She wagged her rubber-gloved finger. ‘You and your one-track minds.’

Andy gave her his plate. ‘There was a pile-up on the North Circular today.’

‘Don’t change the subject.’

‘Makes you think.’

‘Elbows!’

He lifted his elbows. She wiped the table beneath them. ‘She’s going to wear white,’ she muttered. ‘Bit of a joke, isn’t it, when they’ve got two kids? Still, it’s the romance, I suppose.’

There was a silence. He could feel her looking at him, the heat of her expectation.

‘Don’t you think?’ she said.

‘Think what?’

‘Andy!’

She turned away abruptly. What did she want? More and more often, he felt the weight of something heavy between them. He would catch her looking at him through narrowed eyes. A small sigh and she would turn away, as she did now, and squeeze out the sponge.

He yawned. ‘I’m off to bed.’

In the bathroom he stood at the mirror, brushing his teeth. Toni’s footsteps ascended the stairs. The bedroom door opened and closed, with a click. His ear still ached. Maybe a parasitic worm was burrowing into his brain. Could he use it as an excuse?
Sorry, sweetheart, I can’t have sex tonight because I’m dying
. He paused, toothbrush in hand, and listened. Not a sound. Maybe, if he stayed in the bathroom long enough, Toni might simply fall asleep.

Were all women like this? It wasn’t a question he could ask his mates; men didn’t talk about such things, not once a steady girlfriend was involved, and besides they would laugh in his face.
She wants THAT MUCH sex? Blimey, and you’re complaining, you lucky sod?

Andy rinsed his mouth. Of course he had had girlfriends in the past but he had never actually lived with one. Moving in with Toni had placed several demands on him but he hadn’t predicted this one, nor its result – the mixture of dread and incipient exhaustion as night approached. He loved her but the woman’s stamina was astonishing, as indeed was the frequency of her orgasms; they were like the London Tube, a rumble in the tunnel announcing the arrival of yet another one in three minutes’ time.

Andy realised that he was sitting on the edge of the bath, his head resting against the wall. How cool the tiles were … he could almost nod off now. The trouble was that he desperately needed to sleep. He was a postman, he had to get up at five in the morning.

‘Hey, you.’

Toni, eyebrows raised, head on one side, smiled at him. She wore her blue satin dressing gown.

‘Time for beddy-byes,’ she said, taking his hand.

She led him into the bedroom, shrugged off the dressing gown and swung round to face him. Her midriff was encased in a black lace corset thing that pushed up her breasts; she wore fishnet stockings and high heels.

‘Wow,’ said Andy.

‘Went a bit mad at Brent Cross.’ She pulled him down on the bed and unbuckled his belt. ‘Let’s get these off, big boy.’

Night lights flickered among the teddy bears; it gave them a conspiratorial air. Two dolls leaned together. Andy felt, as always, that he was interrupting something. The soft toys had been talking about him before he came and they would talk about him when he left. The whole bunch of them had it in for him. He had blundered into this girly, pastel room; he had stolen their mistress’s affections and he would be punished for it.

Toni peeled off his socks. For a while, after reading an Indian manual, she had been into tantric sex. He had never quite got the hang of it – nor, he suspected, had she. In fact, at one point he had remembered the plumber joke,
you stay in all day and nobody comes
, and had snuffled with laughter, which had killed the whole thing dead.

Toni was straddling him now. She was a heavy girl; they had sunk down into the mattress and she had to steady herself on one knee.

‘That’s so good, so good,’ she moaned, flinging her head back. He tried to concentrate on giving her pleasure, it
was
good, but his mind drifted to the River Lee, to the shady bank he loved and the soft plop as the weight sank into the water … And now he was back in his childhood, standing on the beach at Dawlish, skimming pebbles … his father, who would soon be gone forever, laying his hand on his shoulder …

‘Cockee want suckee?’ whispered Toni. She lay on top of him, nuzzling his ear and rotating her hips from side to side.

‘Not yet,’ he panted. He must concentrate on not coming too soon. They were both sweating; their skin, as they moved, made soft little farts.

‘Yes … oh yes,’ she moaned.

Suddenly the desire drained out of him. An image rose in front of his eyes; it was himself, being led around like a prize bull by Toni. She was a competitive girl; there was something grimly determined about her lovemaking, something of the look-at-me about it. She was performing like a porn star not for her teddies but for her girlfriends.
We were at it all night
.

‘What’s the matter, love?’ Toni rolled off him.

‘Sorry. Got earache.’ This was a lie; his earache had gone.

She looked at him, her hair tangled. One of her breasts had popped out of the corset.

‘Don’t you love me any more?’ Blushing, she stuffed the breast back in.

It rose up in a rush – pity for her, for himself. Andy wanted to say: I was thinking of my father, how I don’t even know where he lives, whether he’s alive or dead. Maybe it was that accident, I don’t know. I feel both strange and very tired tonight. He wanted to say: You don’t have to prove anything to me. I love you, I’m here, isn’t that enough? He wanted to tell her that he admired her, that she had pulled herself out of poverty, out of a family even more dysfunctional than his own, that she had shown more courage and guts than he would ever possess.

‘Say something.’ Toni lay beside him on the duvet, staring at the ceiling. Now that desire had evaporated, he knew she felt ludicrous in that outfit.

‘You seem to have more fun with your girlfriends than with me,’ he said, ‘nattering away six to the dozen.’

‘Yeah, because they
talk
.’

‘What do you want me to say?’

‘Anything.’

‘What do you mean, anything?’

‘Oh, I give up!’ She heaved herself off the bed. Grabbing her dressing gown, she slammed into the bathroom.

Ryan started crying. Andy heard the muffled wails and then Toni’s footsteps. Through the bedroom wall he could hear her crooning to her son. For years it had just been herself and Ryan, alone in the world. She spoilt him rotten but then what did Andy know about being a parent?

Her Snoopy clock said 12.55. Andy’s body longed for sleep but his mind was whirring. He knew, for some reason, that he was at a crossroads in his life. He lay there naked, sweating in the heat. Outside this stuffy little house, a house he shared with a large young woman he barely knew, lay a dangerous world where a human being had been snuffed out that very afternoon. Each click of the clock took him nearer his fortieth birthday and the blurred, alarming years beyond it. Here he felt safe. He wasn’t an intruder, it was his home too. He shared it with this makeshift little family, whose murmurs he could hear through the wall. A year ago he hadn’t known they had existed but a click of his computer had brought them into his life, had brought Toni into his bed. How weird was that?

A breeze blew through the window; one of the night lights guttered and died.

Toni came in. ‘He’ll be all right now.’ She turned her back to Andy and started undressing.

He couldn’t bear it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I just feel …’

‘Feel what?’ She was bent over, peeling off her stocking. He felt her humiliation, and his failure.