Authors: Frederic Lindsay
'Malcolm.'
'You
don't
have
to
remind
me
–
I
know
his
name.'
He
thought,
She
imagines
I'm
an
old
man
who
forgets
names.
'Believe
me,
when
I
do
business
with
a
man,
there
isn't
much
I
don't
know
about
him.
That's
twenty-four
hours
a
day
I
mean.
Like
you
not
wanting
him
to
come
today
and
see
what
we
were
doing
at
the
Underpass.'
'Was
that
where
he
was
today?'
She
seemed
so
genuinely
puzzled
that,
believing
her,
he
felt
offended.
'I'm
surprised
he
didn't
tell
you.
It's
his
future
we're
talking
about
here.'
But
when
she
laughed
again,
even
before
she
spoke,
he understood
that
it
was
some
kind
of
game
she
was
playing
with
him.
His
anger,
unexpectedly
even
his
sense
of
foolishness,
sharpened
his
lust.
'Of
course,
he
told
me,'
she
said.
'He
was
terribly
pleased
with
himself.
You
know
what
he's
like.'
'His
brother
phoned
to
say
he
wouldn't
come.
Malcolm
tells
me
he
didn't
know
anything
about
it.
I
wondered
if
he'd
told
his
brother
to
do
that,
and
then
lost
his
nerve.
Why
would
his
brother
phone
off
his
own
bat?'
'You
can
ask
him
yourself.
He's
coming
here
this
afternoon.'
'Why?'
She
shrugged.
'To
see Malcolm,
I
was
surprised.
They
don't
go
out
of
their
way
to
see
one
another.
They
don't
get
on
well.
Maybe
he
wants
to
talk
to
Malcolm
about
this
Underpass
of
yours.'
'Your
husband
wouldn't
be
stupid
enough
to
listen
to
him.
He
has
a
future
if
he
plays
his
cards
right.
You
tell
him
that,
keep
him
right,
be
a
good
wife
to
him.'
He
put
his
hand
on
her
leg
and
felt
the
warmth
of
her
in
his
palm.
She
giggled;
a
surprising
noise,
very
warm
and
amused.
'I
had
a
bet
with
myself
you'd
do
that
about
now
,
'
she
said
and lifted
his
hand
from
her.
Strangely,
for
a
second
as
she
held
it,
he
seemed
to
see
his
own
hand
through
her
eyes:
plump,
very
white,
wrinkled
on
the
wrist
like
a
used
glove.
At
the
firmness
of
her
touch,
he
felt
a
weakening
pleasure
and
made
no
resistance,
but
his
anger
increased.
'Do
you
want
all
the
nice
things
as
much
as
he
does?
Christ,
I
recognised
him
as
soon
as
I
met
him.
Men
like
him
–
I've
been
buying
them
all
my
life.'
It
wasn't
what
he
had
meant
to
say.
It
was
stupid
to
talk
like
this
to
her.
He
could
not
help
himself.
'Buying
them
or
frightening
them.
Sometimes
they
have
to
be
frightened.'
The
tip
of
her
tongue
wiped
her
bottom
lip
and
the
corner
of
her
mouth.
Where
it
had
passed,
her
lips
shone.
It
was
in
his
power
to
arrange
for
people
to
be
hurt;
even
if
he
was
old
.
It
made
no
sense
for
him
to
be
uncertain
or
to
feel
that
he
was
not
in control.
'You
want
all
those
nice
things,'
he
said.
'I
can
tell.
A
pretty
girl like
you
.
You're
ambitious.
Just
like
him.'
He
put
his
hand
on
her
breast
.
When
she
did
not
flinch,
he gradually
tightened
his
grip,
looking
all
the
time
into
her
face. With
his
other
hand,
he
grasped
her
by
the
jaw
and
began
to
draw
her
towards
his
mouth.
She
sank
her
teeth
into
the
web
of
wrinkled
flesh
that
hung
at
the
root
of
his
thumb.
It was
no
nip
but
a
real
bite
that
took
meat
out
of
his
hand
as
he
tore
it
away.
He
heard
a
voice
whimpering
with
shock.
'As
if
I
cared
about
any
of
that,'
he
heard
her
say.
He
was
on
his
feet
looking
down
at
her
and
there
was
a
noise.
It
took
him
a
moment
to
understand
that
someone
was
knocking
at
the
outer
door.
'The
bell's
out
of
order,'
she
said
.
'Malcolm
keeps
intending
to
have
it
fixed.
If
I
hadn't
been
expecting
you,
you
might
still
have
been
standing
on
the
step
trying
to
ring
it.'
His
uninjured
hand
made
itself
into
a
fist,
and
then
it
would
only
be
a
matter
of
moving
it
through
the
air.
Her
eyes
shone
as
she
looked
up
at
him.
The
crazy
idea
came
into
his
head
that
she
wanted
him
to
hit
her.
By
the
side
of
her
mouth,
there
was
a
smear
of
bright
blood.
When
his
fist
opened,
his
two
hands
shook.