Beneath the Skin(39)
As a cautionary measure against Sophie’s snooping, their texting over the past few weeks has been infrequent, though he’d never been so meticulous about it with women before. It was always easy to shrug and to say to Sophie, ‘The girls at work having a laugh, you know what they’re like.’ But this time it was too close to home, too difficult to explain away and it mattered. Only God knew why, but it mattered.
She was usually at home in the mornings but her car was missing and the house was empty, so he waited for her a distance away, hoping the neighbours wouldn’t think it odd that a man in a smart suit was waiting and watching, alone in his newly polished car. The sports pages of the Telegraph bounced in rhythm with his impatiently jiggling knee, but he didn’t read a word.
Their last tryst had been sublime. He’d relived it in his imagination time and again. Before leaving her bed, he completely covered her soft naked body with his, lying perfectly still, trying to preserve the moment.
‘We’re a perfect fit,’ he whispered.
‘Lying down, yes,’ she laughed in reply.
He didn’t want to leave. Unusually for him and his occasional conquests, he wanted to stay. To inhale that special smell, to chat, to cuddle and to kiss. He had to wrench himself from her bed, from her, but she promised to call him at work on his private line.
‘Soon,’ she said in answer to his question as to when they would meet. ‘Soon,’ she said in answer to when she would call.
Over the last few days he found himself sitting idly at his desk, watching the telephone like a silly bloody teenager. But no call came and he began creating different scenarios in his head as to why she hadn’t called. The sex was fantastic for them both, he was confident of that. So what was the problem? He liked her and she liked him, no one else knew about it, so it wasn’t hurting anyone.
As he waited down the road this morning, he caught himself in the car mirror, adjusted it to see his whole face and grinned. He was looking good. He smelled good, his body was nicely toned from the gym. He couldn’t imagine that she might have gone off him. No one ever got bored with Sami Richards before he became bored with them.
‘Hey, Sami,’ a voice shouts.
Sami looks across the cobbled square. It’s Mike, who’s seen him first, so there’s no chance of escape. Dodging a heave of sandwich shoppers, Mike approaches with a look of friendly concern. ‘Are you OK? You look as though City have scored six times!’
Wrenching his focus to Mike, he tries for normality. Mike is carrying a large blue and silver brolly with the name of an accountancy firm printed on it in huge letters. Sami lifts the collar of his coat. He hadn’t noticed the rain.
Sami nods at the umbrella. ‘And you have the cheek to call me a corporate freebie bitch. Those bastards too!’
‘Not guilty.’ Mike laughs. ‘Found it in the boot of my car.’
‘With the bodies? That’s what they all say.’ The need for distraction suddenly overwhelming, Sami nods in the direction of Sam’s Chop House. ‘Man, am I glad to see a friendly face. I’ve had a shit morning. Do you fancy a quick pint?’
Mike looks apologetic. Sami has forgotten how Mike hates to let anyone down. ‘Sorry, Sam. I’m on an errand for Olivia and I’ve an appointment in the office at two. How about tomorrow?’
‘You’re getting soft in your old age, man. Lunchtime used to be boys only, remember?’ He manoeuvres himself under Mike’s umbrella, shakes away the stab of rebuff. ‘And what is it that you’re buying for your lovely wife?’
Mike lifts a green shopping bag. ‘Not buying. M&S returns, actually. Not very macho, is it? I bet the Boot Room boys would be disappointed in me.’
‘Too bloody right.’
Sami laughs, but he’s disappointed. Despite his conflicting emotions, it would be good to talk to Mike. He always has a knack of turning the downside of life on its head and seeing the comedy. And more to the point, just when it’s needed, he’ll gently take the piss out of ‘Sami and his pedestal’, which no one else is allowed to do.
Sami shrugs off the thought; he needs to get out of his own head somehow. ‘I’ll walk with you and the brolly bastards. Don’t want to spoil my lovely locks in this piss.’ He looks at his watch, still pleased with its e-Strap. ‘Besides, I think a bit of retail therapy is just what the doctor ordered.’
Antonia picks up the bundle of bills on the doormat, flicking through the envelopes absently before leaving White Gables yet again. She looks at herself briefly in the hall mirror, surprised at how composed she looks. The packed morning has been a nightmare from start to finish. Her hand is trembling and she feels slightly breathless. It’s all she can do not to retreat back into the house and search out the razor blade she hides beneath her old diaphragm in its box. But she knows the calm it gives her is only ever temporary and she has things to do, Sophie for a start.
She doesn’t feel guilty about having reprimanded Sophie for her selfishness. It’s surprisingly satisfying. But she is aware of a feeling of culpability, even though she was trying to put things right. She sat at her kitchen table with an espresso for at least half an hour, mulling things over and trying to calm herself, but the rare caffeine boost is having the opposite effect. Still, it gives her the energy to move. And with Sophie I’ll need energy, she muses, as she climbs into the car.