Nick worked harder to please her, first on the floor, then bent over the table. He wanted to want this. He had five years of missing sex to make up for. He should be present in the moment, not fantasising about something that, in real life, wouldn’t turn him on. Inside, fantasy was a necessary habit, but he was out now, free. Unless it really was like the long-term lads said. You never got the old feeling of freedom back. The only freedom you got was to carry your own cage wherever you went, weighing you down at every step.
After they’d finished, he lay beside her. Not cuddling, but close. Time passed. They were woken by a child at the door.
‘Go back upstairs. I’ll bring you some water in a minute.’
While Polly was gone, Nick made them both a cup of tea. At half past ten, he got up to go.
‘I can get a babysitter if you want to make a proper night of it.’
‘I’d like that,’ Nick said, ‘only I’ve got to earn as much as I can right now. Getting a place of my own.’
Her smile seemed to speak of patience. Polly never asked questions, only chewed over whatever he told her. He wished he hadn’t said that about getting a place. Polly might think he was on the verge of leaving his wife, because of her.
Dan rolled off and removed the rubber he’d worn without asking.
‘We should do this more often,’ he said, when he came back from the bathroom. Sarah didn’t reply. She didn’t want to make love with him ever again. He had been attentive enough and she didn’t mind condoms. Only, now it was over, she felt crap. Worse than she sometimes felt after using the vibrator. Much worse than she had before accepting her ex’s invitation to inspect his new flat. But Dan, it seemed, couldn’t tell the difference between the empty sex they’d just had and what it used to be like. Which was really depressing. He pushed his luck.
‘Can we do this every time I canvas for you or was tonight a one-off?’
‘A one-off,’ she replied, then added, to let him down easy, ‘otherwise we’ll forget we split up.’
‘Shame,’ Dan said. ‘I thought we could be fuck buddies.’
‘Fuck buddies?’
He explained the term to her. Sex as a friendly transaction between temporarily single people who had firmly ruled out having a relationship.
‘I don’t think so,’ Sarah said. ‘I need the bathroom. Can you call me a taxi?’
‘Are you seeing anyone?’ Dan asked, when she was dressing, with her back to him.
‘I wouldn’t have come round here if I was. You?’
‘There’s a woman at work. It’s messy. She lives with someone, wants to leave, but this place isn’t big enough for two and it’s still early days between us. She isn’t sure how good a bet I am.’
‘She’s right to be cautious, if you’re cheating on her already.’
Dan looked affronted. ‘I’m not sleeping with her. We’ve talked and kissed, that’s all. Taking it slowly. She says I’m still not over you.’
‘Doing this won’t help, then.’
‘No, it has. I mean . . . you were right to finish it. We weren’t going anywhere. I might even tell Clare what happened.’
‘Including the “fuck buddies” bit?’ Sarah asked.
‘Glad to see you’re as sardonic as ever.’ Dan gave her a wry smile. Outside, a taxi sounded its horn.
‘That was quick.’
‘I told them it was for Sarah Bone, MP.’
Dan signalled to the driver while Sarah finished dressing.
‘Now that we’re finished, will you tell me something?’ she asked.
‘Anything.’
‘Were you faithful to me, all the time I spent in London?’
Dan hesitated. ‘Not entirely. You?’
‘Not entirely,’ Sarah lied. ‘I’m glad we’ve got that out of our systems. Let’s be buddies, but without the fuck bit. Okay?’
He saw her out to her taxi. Sarah was sorry it had come so quickly. She wanted details of Dan’s infidelities. Had he slept with anyone she knew? How often had he strayed? As soon as she was inside, the taxi set off towards the Park. It was a Cane Cars taxi, Sarah noticed, and, for the first time, looked up to see the driver, just in case it was Nick.
It wasn’t. Nor was the driver the person in the ID photograph hanging from the sun guard.
‘Let me out,’ she told Ed Clark. ‘This is not a good idea.’
‘Just doing my job,’ he told her. ‘I’m taking you home. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.’ He pulled up at some lights.
‘I want to get out,’ she said. When he didn’t react, she tried the door. It was locked.
‘We get a lot of runners,’ he told her. ‘It’s a standard precaution.’
‘Ed, I don’t want to ride with you. I don’t want you to know where I live.’
‘I already know where you live,’ he told her. ‘I’ll prove it to you.’
They sped up. Had Dan given the firm her address? Taxis didn’t normally ask for a precise address on the phone.
‘Why do you know where I live?’ Sarah asked.
‘I’m interested in you. You know that. You’re interested in me, too. Otherwise you’d still be living with that Dan guy, wouldn’t you?’
‘Stop!’ Sarah said. ‘I want to get out, now!’
‘We’re nearly there,’ Ed told her. ‘I was kidding, in that hotel, last month. I didn’t like getting knocked back, so I had a go. Childish, I know, but it was a stressful day and I’d had too much to drink. I’m sorry.’
‘Apology accepted,’ Sarah said, as he turned off Derby Road into the Park with its wide, unlit avenues. ‘I can walk from here.’
‘No, you can’t. It’s dangerous.’
Ed didn’t ask directions, but pulled up right outside her flat. It was two o’clock. None of the flats in her building had any lights on. He still didn’t unlock the door.
‘What do I owe you?’ Sarah asked.
‘Nothing. Are you going to invite me in for a drink?’
Nick wasn’t sure what he was doing in the club. He liked to chill after driving for several hours, but he could do that at home. He didn’t need company. Especially when the music was so loud you had to shout over it. Ed Clark wasn’t here, but several street girls were. All looked dog rough. Two had the sallow, used-up demeanour of junkies. Most of the girls sat together in the corner opposite the entrance, talking loudly, laughing, showing no interest in the men who hung around the bar, watching.
A Motown tune rattled the speakers. Finish this pint, Nick thought, and I’ll be gone. His desire for the evening was spent and he’d never, anyway, slept with a professional. The idea didn’t appeal to him. He watched the girls laughing, gossiping, smoking like chimneys. He had an inch of his pint left and was about to down it when somebody tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Another?’ Without waiting for an answer, Ed ordered Nick a strong lager.
‘Meant to finish earlier but I had a special job,’ Ed said when he returned with their drinks.
‘Yeah?’ Nick downed his old drink, trying to look mildly interested.
‘My Sarah. She called my cab, asked for me special, took me back to hers for a good seeing to.’
‘Surprised you didn’t stay the night,’ Nick said, careful not to let it sound like an insult. Ed grinned.
‘Nah, I’m her bit of rough. She don’t want a gorilla like me around in the morning, when her fancy mates show up. She likes a good shafting last thing, full length at both ends.’
Nick, to hide his distaste, began drinking his new pint too quickly. He knew that Ed was lying, but couldn’t stop himself picturing the sex he described. Nick had good sex with Polly. He’d soon learnt that she liked things a little rough and only came when he took her from behind. With Sarah, sex was always romantic: exciting, but not dirty the way it was with Polly. It was part of being in love, a state that had only happened to Nick twice. With Polly, it was something else. Passion, yes. But also a release, a means of expression, even a kind of revenge.