Our Kind of Cruelty(47)

The house felt vulgar seen through Elaine’s eyes, as I had known it would. You could have probably fitted her kitchen into mine four times over. ‘Yes.’

‘It’s a very large house,’ she said and the words hung in the air. ‘You must be making an awful lot of money.’

‘You know I am.’ I knew my face was red and it felt no different to being a child and having her tell me off for sneaking another biscuit.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever asked you, Mike. Do you enjoy the work?’

Remnants from my conversation with Kaitlyn floated back to me. What she’d said about selling up and moving to the coast had stuck to me like flotsam and I realised as I sat with Elaine that I didn’t particularly enjoy what I did. ‘I don’t know really. I suppose it’s OK.’ But even as I said that I thought of the way I jumbled figures and numbers to make them behave as I wanted them to. How I never actually saw anything I had created, how nothing real ever changed hands, how my whole working life was intangible.

Elaine sipped at her tea, her hands encircling the mug. ‘I suppose there must be a point where you’ve made enough.’

I thought of all the zeros in my bank balance. ‘I suppose.’

She looked me straight in the eye. ‘What would you really like to do, Mike, I mean if you could choose anything?’

I hate questions like that; they go nowhere apart from deep inside. ‘I haven’t really thought about it.’

‘But there must be something?’

I tried to search my brain, but it seemed stopped by mud or grease. If I thought about what I wanted it was only V and it felt like it had only ever been her. Although that couldn’t be entirely true because I hadn’t known her all my life. I couldn’t at that moment remember why I’d gone to university or what I’d hoped to achieve. Everything just seemed blank.

Elaine sighed. ‘You could do a lot of good with all this money.’

I nodded, my throat feeling inexplicably full. I needed to make money to make V happy, but it didn’t feel like something I could say to Elaine. ‘I’m hoping to have a family in this house one day,’ I said and as I did so something tugged at my chest. I had never thought about having children before but of course that’s what married couples did and V and I would have perfect children.

Elaine smiled. ‘Well, that would be lovely. But you’ve got to meet a nice girl first.’

I smiled back, but my mouth felt taut. Because if you followed that thought through, and if V really thought she loved Angus, then what would stop them having children? I stood up. ‘Sorry, I just need the toilet,’ I said, walking to the downstairs bathroom, where I locked myself in. I leant over the basin, breathing deeply into my stomach, my hands clenched on the white porcelain. Just the thought of Angus’s baby invading V’s body sent convulsions of fear through me, so they fizzed from my head to my feet, popping through my blood and making me weak. It was an abomination, too repulsive to consider. I knew then that I had to get her away from him as soon as possible.

Elaine was putting on her coat when I came out. ‘It’s been so lovely to see you, Mike,’ she said. ‘And to put you in some sort of context. Barry won’t believe it when I tell him about the house.’

‘You must bring him next time.’

‘I’ll do that.’

I walked her to the door. I think she’d worn the same coat she had on when I’d lived with her. It was her autumn coat, not as thick as her winter one, but good in a rain shower. She rubbed my arm at the door and her eyes were twinkling. ‘You take care of yourself, Mike. And call me anytime. You know our door is always open to you.’

‘I know.’ She looked so tiny standing in my giant hall, the top of her head only reaching my shoulder, and I longed for her suddenly. Longed for my room now occupied by Jayden. She would be going home to cook tea and then she and Barry and maybe Jayden would watch Strictly and they’d share a can of Guinness and at some point someone would say something that made everyone laugh. I bent down and kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks for coming, Elaine.’

‘You’re a good lad, Mike,’ she said. ‘Don’t you forget it.’

I opened the door and the wind had picked up, so you could feel the first chill of a dying summer in the air. She turned and waved at me from the gate and I had to swallow down my tears as I shut the door.

I had an irrational and stupid desire to call Kaitlyn. I knew if I did I could go and sit in her white flat with her wild horses running across the wall. I could imagine her making me a cup of tea and letting me lie on the sofa. I didn’t think she’d even mind if I cried, although she would ask me what I was crying for and I wouldn’t know what to tell her. And anyway it would be a mean thing to do, leading her on unforgivably.

Instead I went back to the kitchen and opened my laptop, googling 24 Elizabeth Road again, trying once more to see past the sterile image. After that I googled V, but there was still nothing online beyond the very basics. But then I had an idea and I typed Angus Metcalf into Facebook. Sure enough his profile popped up, which of course it would, considering what a self-centred, show-off type of person he was. His last post had been from the day before when he’d checked into Virgin Atlantic’s Upper Class Lounge. A stupid graphic showed a dotted line between London Heathrow and LAX. He was very far away.