Our Kind of Cruelty(9)

I slept fitfully, on the sofa again, although this time I did have the foresight to close the curtains. I dreamt of V, trapped in an electronic world of her own creation, stuck behind a million passwords, which no human would ever be clever enough to decipher. She was being attacked by a massive eagle and screamed my name constantly. I woke with a start, my heart pinning me to the sofa like a butterfly in a box, my body covered in sweat and my mouth painfully dry. I lay very still and regulated my breathing, first into my toes, then up my legs, through my belly, my chest, neck and out of the top of my head. I felt better when I’d done that and I could see light creeping round the edges of the curtains, which gave me some hope. And I remembered all was not lost: Suzi and Colin were still at Steeple House, just as they always would be, and I knew that place as well as anywhere in the world.

I left it until 10 a.m. and then ten minutes more. By then I had run, showered and dressed, cleaned the house and opened the doors into the garden and made myself a pot of coffee. I would walk across the common in a bit and buy a paper, maybe even have lunch in a pub. Normal Sunday pursuits.

Steeple House’s number was still stored in my phone, although it wouldn’t have mattered if it had been lost. Suzi took a while to answer, but I knew better than to ring off, knew she would be in the garden on a fine summer morning with her daughter’s wedding looming and all the guests to impress.

‘Mike?’ she said, failing to hide her surprise behind her over-accentuated vowels.

‘How are you, Suzi?’ I asked, keeping my voice light.

‘Well. We’re fine, thank you,’ she replied, recovering herself. ‘Thank you for replying to the invitation so swiftly.’

I was worried when she said that. I thought I’d left an adequate time, but maybe I was wrong, maybe I looked too keen. ‘It will be lovely to see you and Colin.’

‘Yes. How long have you been back in England for?’

I could hear the radio spluttering on in the background and I knew it would be Radio 4, which was never turned off in Steeple House. V and I always listened to Radio 4 as well and I do miss it, but it’s one of the things I still find too painful. ‘A couple of months. I’ve bought a house in Clapham and got a job at another bank.’

‘Well, yes. Verity told me.’

It was good to know they had discussed me. ‘Fantastic news about Verity’s promotion,’ I said, which was a gamble, but not that big a one, if you knew V.

‘Oh, you heard?’ I could hear the pride in her voice. ‘Have you two been in touch then?’

‘Just by email.’ I let the conversation rest for a minute. ‘In fact, that’s why I was ringing. I wanted to send her and Angus an engagement gift and I haven’t got their address.’

I felt Suzi’s hesitation down the line, as large as a bear. ‘Oh, well, that’s very sweet of you, Mike. But you don’t need to do that, surely? And anyway, why don’t you ask Verity for it?’

I half laughed, trying to sound casual. ‘I was going to, but then I thought that might ruin the surprise.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose it might,’ Suzi said, but I could still feel the hesitation.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ I said cheerfully. ‘I should have realised it’s a bit of an odd thing to ring and ask after all this time. I’ll just email her, don’t worry.’

‘No, no. Sorry, I’m being silly. It’s 24 Elizabeth Road, W8. I don’t know the whole postcode, but I could get my address book.’

‘No, postcodes are easy to find.’ I looked at the words I had written on to the pad in front of me. I knew W8 meant Kensington and I had a feeling I knew Elizabeth Road. Large, grand houses. ‘How about a flat number?’

‘Oh no, they have the whole house.’ Again I heard the swell of pride in her voice. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’re feeling, well, better, Mike. It’ll be good to see you at the wedding.’

‘Yes,’ I said, heat rising through my body. ‘Thanks.’

‘I think it’s a good idea to put all that nastiness behind us. And Verity’s very happy now. It’s good of you to understand that.’

‘Yes.’ I wanted to say something more significant but my voice felt caught inside me.

‘Anyway, take care,’ she said, ringing off before I could say goodbye.

I stayed sitting at the long table which runs along the back of the kitchen, by the bifold doors. I could imagine V holding lunches and dinners at the table, the doors open, me manning a barbeque. The day felt as though it had darkened, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

‘“Oh no, they have the whole house,”’ I said out loud, mimicking her entitled voice. ‘We don’t say toilet,’ she said to me on my second or third visit to Steeple House. They were having a lunch party and she took me to one side before it started. ‘Or pardon, for that matter,’ she’d added. ‘And please don’t hold your knife like a pen.’

She’d walked away from me after that, leaving me to wonder at all the other things I did wrong without realising. I found V in the garden and told her what her mother had said, but she told me not to worry, that her mother was a stupid snob. ‘Please, please promise me you’ll say at least one of those words during the meal and you’ll definitely hold your knife like a pen,’ she said. At first I refused, but she put her hand down my trousers and stroked me until I would have agreed to learn Chinese if that’s what it took.