Neurotica (29 page)

“Ed, I feel the same. I have only ever felt like this twice in
my life. The first was when I met Dan. I'd like nothing more than to
stay here with you, but I must get back to my kids. I promised I'd
be home for lunch. Plus I've got some thinking I need to do.”

“About us?”

She nodded, then grabbed his wrist to look at the time.

“Christ, it's gone eleven.” She watched a bit of sodden
biscuit break off and splash into her tea.

“Please stay.” His voice was pleading.

“I really can't,” she said tenderly. Seeing the look of
utter heartbreak on his face, she put her mug down on the bedside
table and pushed him down onto the bed. She then began undoing
the rest of his fly buttons. Moments later he was lying naked beside
her and she was covering his penis with her mouth.

“Christ, Anna,” he said between moans, “you don't give
blow jobs, you give entire blow careers.”

Afterwards he cradled her in his arms.

“Ed, there's something I feel I ought to tell you,” she
said, playing with the column of thick hairs below his navel.

Ed sat up, clearly alarmed.

“Bloody hell, Anna, I've had enough bad news in the last
twenty-four hours. Please don't give me any more.”

“It's not bad news, exactly, but you might not want to see
me again when I've told you what it is.” Anna took a deep breath
and told him about the
Clitoris-Centered Woman
article
she was writing for the
Daily Mercury.

When she'd finished, Ed stared at her for a few seconds.

“So you mean you've used me, quite cynically, as part of your
research for this piece?”

“Look, I admit that's how it started out. Please don't be
angry.” There was panic rising in her voice. “The reason I'm telling
you this is because, like you, I feel there's something between us
which is based on more than just sex, and   .   .   .”

But Ed didn't let her finish. He burst out laughing.

“I had no idea you took your job so seriously. I promise,
never again will I accuse you of making up the stuff you write.”

“I don't get it. If I were you, I'd be furious.”

“You told me, that's the important thing. Besides, you don't
fancy you like I do.”

With that he pulled her on top of him and kissed her.

C H A P T E R     T W E N T Y

A
NNA PUT HER KEYS DOWN ON THE hall table next to the kids' lunchboxes. These were meant to live in the kitchen when they weren't
at school. Pretty sure what she would find inside, Anna opened Amy's
red plastic box. As she'd suspected, it contained an empty bashed-in
apple juice box, a quarter of a stale peanut butter sandwich and a
half-eaten nectarine which had grown green fur overnight and was
oozing over a letter from the PTA pleading for cakes for the school
bring-and-buy sale.

Feeling slightly irritated with Dan for not emptying them, she
picked up the lunchboxes.

“Hey, you lot,” she shouted in no direction in particular.
“I'm back.”

There was no reply.

Anna wandered into the living room. Mrs. Fredericks had been in
yesterday to clean, but the room was a dump. It also stank of food
which had been left out overnight. There were newspapers, empty
glasses and a couple of dirty plates on the floor. One of the plates
contained the cause of the stink—an untouched chili dog.

With her free hand, Anna picked up an empty bottle of Red Label
from the coffee table and held it up. She was certain that yesterday
it had been full.

The untidiness annoyed her; the sight of the empty whiskey
bottle, on the other hand, worried her. Dan drank an occasional
Scotch late at night, but she had never known him to have more than
a glass or two. Perhaps he'd had a mate over last night and they'd
got pissed? If that had been the case, he would have tidied up this
morning. The mess in the living room had all the hallmarks of a man
who had spent the night drinking alone.

Anna ran out of the room and shouted up the stairs.

“Amy, Josh, anyone .   .   . speak to me if you're
up there.”

Silence. Dan must have taken the kids out.

Anna went into the kitchen. She put the whiskey bottle and
the lunchboxes on the worktop and began sifting through the scraps of
paper, old envelopes and ends of American legal pads which always
lived in a pile next to the bread bin, to see if Dan had left her a
note to say when they'd be back. There was nothing. Anna had a
feeling, the kind of feeling her late grandmother always
referred to as a “presentiment”—because she could never
think of the word “premonition”—that something was seriously
wrong.

She began pacing up and down the kitchen, trying to decide whom
to phone. Each time she reached the hob, she did an about-turn
and walked towards the door which led into the hall. On her third
or fourth about-turn, she looked up and saw Dan standing in the
doorway. She jumped with fright and then bellowed at him.

“Do you mind telling me what the hell has been going on
here?” She picked up the whiskey bottle and thrust it angrily in
his face. His eyes peered out at her from puffy hollows. He needed
a hairwash and a shave. And he was wearing the same shirt and
trousers he'd had on when he'd left the house the previous
morning.

“Nothing very much, other than I felt the need to get mightily
slaughtered last night. You'll find an empty vodka bottle in the bin
if you look.”

Anna found the mock joviality in his voice almost menacing.
“What have you done with the kids?”

“Brenda's.” Dan went to the fridge and took out a carton of
orange juice. He closed the door and glared at her.

“Anyway, I think I am the one who should be asking you what's
been going on.”

Anna felt herself begin to tremble. “What are you talking
about?” She had no idea why she had asked such a fatuous question.
She knew precisely what he was talking about. She didn't know how he
had found out, but the game, her game, was up.

Dan finished pouring juice into a glass.

“What I'm talking about is this.” He took a piece of paper
from his back pocket and held it towards her. Anna took it and
unfolded it. It was her Barclaycard statement. The £75
payment to Liaisons Dangereux jumped out at her.

Dan finished his juice and put the glass down on the worktop.
“Oh, I nearly forgot—there's this too.”

He handed her a postcard. It was from Charlie. It was one she
hadn't seen before. He had sent it from San Diego.

“Where did you get it?” she said almost in a whisper.

“When I took the kids round to Brenda's last night, I saw it
lying on the kitchen table. It seemed odd that a postcard clearly
meant for you should have Brenda's address on it. So, nosy bastard
that I am, I picked it up. I particularly like the bit where he says,
“You're simply the best.' I find it hard to believe you slept with
a bloke for whom the pinnacle of literary expression is to quote
from Tina Turner.

“Oh, and
then,
” he continued, “there's Reenie
Theydon-Bois, but you don't have to explain about her because I know
all I need to know. After a little research yesterday, I found the
number for Liaisons Dangereux and I spoke to her last night. Charming
woman. Says she found you a “delaytful' doctor to screw.”

Anna could feel the color draining from her face.

“What, she told you?” she gasped, holding onto the worktop
for support. “She promised everything was confidential.”

“It's funny how unconfidential everything can become when you
threaten to report her for operating illegally as an escort agency
when Liaisons Dangereux is registered at Companies House as a
shih tzu breeding establishment.

“How many men have there been, Anna? How many men have
you fucked in the last couple of months?” He was shouting at her
now, his face almost touching hers. His breath reeked of booze and
he was spraying her with saliva. “Two, three, four, a dozen maybe.
How many, Anna, how fucking many?” A split second later she felt
a sudden and intense burning sensation down one side of her face.
Her hand leaped to her cheek. Her head spinning, she caught hold
of the worktop to steady herself. Dan stared down at his hand in
disbelief. In all the years he had known Anna, he had never laid
a violent hand on her.

Anna fought the instinct to back away from him. Instead she
stayed put. Dan looked up again.

“Three,” she said, staring into his eyes with a forced
calmness. “There have been three. I managed to find three men who
wanted to make love to me when you wouldn't. Three men who made me
feel beautiful and wanted me while you sat at home taking your fucking
blood pressure.”

Dan scraped a chair noisily along the polished floorboards and
sat down at the kitchen table. He put his head in his hands.

Anna sat down opposite him. She reached across and touched
his arm. He withdrew from her in an instant. After a couple of
minutes he looked up.

“If I'm honest, I think I probably saw it coming. Brenda tried
to warn me a few weeks ago that the illness thing was driving you
to breaking point. She hinted you might do something like this.”

Anna realized she felt no anger towards Brenda for
speaking to
Dan. She knew it was just her friend's way of trying to help.

“So, did Brenda mention the article I'm supposed to be
writing?”

He shook his head. “What article?”

For the second time that day, Anna explained about the
Clitoris-Centered Woman
piece.

“Talk about crap timing.” He laughed bitterly. “You decide
to get laid at the same time as I try to repair our marriage. After
Brenda told me how much my hypochondria was affecting you, I went
straight out and found a shrink. I didn't tell you I was seeing
her because I had this plan to come home one day, announce that I
was cured and whisk you off on some exotic holiday.”

“I think at some level I knew you were up to something. I
had the feeling you were less obsessed with your health lately.
The thing is, Dan, you left it too late. You know as well as I do
that you should have gone into therapy years ago.”

“Probably.”

“Dan, I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry I've hurt you.”

“Yeah, right,” he said flatly. He paused. “There's something
else you need to know.” In an almost matter-of-fact tone he told
her about his visit to Dr. Harper, the chest X ray and the
certainty in his mind that he had lung cancer.

Anna listened in horror-struck silence.

“But you don't know for definite,” she said when he'd
finished. She was doing her best to sound upbeat. “You haven't
had the results of the X ray and then there will be loads
of other tests they'll want to do.”

“Anna, you weren't there. You didn't hear Dr. Harper, the
tone of voice she used when she put down her stethoscope. She's
been a doctor for thirty years. Believe me, she recognizes the
beginnings of lung cancer when she hears it.”

Anna wanted to hug him, hold him, but she knew he would push
her away.

“So,” she said, “what happens now?”

Dan sat up straight and tapped his palm briskly on the table.
“I should have the X-ray results in a few days. In the
meantime, I shall go and see a solicitor about a divorce. I suggest
you do the same.”

“OK,” she said wearily. “If that's what you really
want.”

Dan stood up and glared at her again. “And get this
absolutely straight, Anna: if by any chance I am not ill, I will
be going for custody of Amy and Josh. In my opinion sluts do not
make fit mothers.”

Those last words were the most hateful she had ever heard come
from his mouth. She would have preferred it if he'd hit her
again.

Dan walked to the kitchen door and said he was moving in
with his cousin Beany for a couple of weeks. For a few seconds
Anna was transported back to Gants Hill and the night she and Dan had
met at the party to celebrate Beany passing his bar finals. Dan had
always kept in touch with his cousin. It was Beany who dragged Dan
to West Ham most Saturday afternoons. He had a lot of time on his
hands since his divorce the previous year. These days he lived alone
in a flat in Hammersmith. After ten years of marriage, he had been
too shell-shocked by the split to get swiftly back into the swing
of dating women. He would, thought Anna, probably be only too
grateful for some blokeish company.

She followed Dan into the hall. She watched him take his
jacket from the hat stand and pick up a large canvas bag. It still
had the flight tags on the handles from their Tobago holiday.

He opened the front door and paused. After a few seconds he
turned round.

“D'you know what? The bugger of it is, I still love you.”

After he had gone, Anna sat at the bottom of the stairs. She
knew that if she had got down on her knees and begged him to
forgive her she might have been able to persuade him to stay. But
she couldn't bring herself to do it. Despite what he'd said about
being ill, despite his plans to fight her for the children, she
couldn't lie to him anymore and pretend she wanted to be with him.
She was glad he had left her. She needed to find out if she had
a future with Ed.

A
nna, will you wake up and smell the deep shit you've got
yourself into?” Anna had gone round to Brenda's a couple of hours
later, to pick up Amy and Josh. While the children played upstairs,
Brenda was laying into her. “You're an arrogant cow, you know that,
don't you? Nearly two months ago, you came round 'ere, you sat on
the same chair you're sitting on now and tried to convince me that
you were capable of living by Rachel whatserface's rules. Anna
Shapiro had it sussed. Anna Shapiro reckoned she was capable of
having affairs just for the sex, that Dan would never be any the wiser
and that she would never fall in love. Surprise, fucking surprise,
she fell arse over tit. Look at what you are doing, Anna. You're
about to flush your marriage and two kids down the can, all for
the sake of some slimy git with a long lens. I mean, you can't
really believe he gave a flying fuck last night about your happiness
or your relationship with Dan—God help me, I cannot believe
I am having to explain this to a woman of nearly forty. Anna, read
my lips, he just wanted to get 'is leg over. For Chrissake, you
told me five minutes ago, the man is a serial shagger.”

“Brenda, will there ever come a day when you stop telling me
how to live my life? At least I haven't got myself up the
spout.”

“Maybe not, but at the rate you're getting through blokes
these days, you might find yourself ending up with a nice dose of
the clap.”

Furious, Anna got to her feet.

“For the first time in years,” she spat, “I've got a chance
of some happiness. I agree, it may not work out with Ed, but at
least I want to find out. What I could really do with just now is
your support, but it seems that's not an offer.”

Anna grabbed her car keys from the kitchen table and stormed
out of the kitchen. Brenda heard her yell upstairs for Amy and
Josh. A minute later the front door slammed.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Brenda stood at the kitchen sink and
chucked a dripping dishcloth at the window.