‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Because it may surprise you to learn that your opinion means a lot to me.’
‘And why would that be?’
And suddenly he was upon her, pressing her up against the bookshelves, causing her to spill the rest of her whisky on the floor, his lips crushing down on hers, the full weight of his body bearing down on her. ‘Because you are … so … fucking … gorgeous,’ he said, between heavy, alcohol-soaked breaths. ‘Because … I can’t die happy … until I’ve got inside your pants …’
‘Get OFF me!’ Rachel shouted, and pushed him away with a force that sent him reeling across the room. He toppled against the grand piano, steadied himself, and then for a few moments they stared at each other. When he made no further move, she pointed at the door. ‘Get out. Get out now.’
It seemed that he was about to obey her. He wiped his mouth and started making for the door, but as he was passing beside her he made another lunge, grabbing her around the waist this time and throwing her to the floor. Now he was on top of her and she was pinned to the carpet.
‘Get OFF!’ she screamed again, and just then a child’s voice said, ‘Rachel?’ and they both looked towards the doorway, in which Grace and Sophia were standing, side by side, wearing their matching pyjamas and looking rumpled and sleepy.
Averting his eyes from the children’s questioning gaze, Freddie staggered to his feet and went over to the mirror above the fireplace, where he straightened his tie and smoothed down his hair. Rachel was still on the floor. The impact of the fall had bruised her and for the time being she didn’t think she could get up.
‘Are you all right?’ Sophia said, and they both came forward and held out their hands to help her.
Without another word, or so much as a glance in their direction, Freddie left the room and strode across the hallway towards the front door. They heard it open and then slam shut.
In a slow, painful movement, Rachel rocked herself into a sitting position, and then stayed that way for a while. Grace and Sophia knelt down on either side of her and put their arms around her. It was this display of sympathy, above all — so unexpected, so unlooked-for — that gave her the strength to raise herself finally, and stand upright.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you back into bed. I think we all need another night-time story, don’t you?’
‘Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Mr Francis?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I think he knows the way out.’ And then, holding hands, the three of them slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.
*
Freddie certainly knew the way out. But he was in no hurry to leave. For ten minutes he stood in the Gunns’ front garden, next to the temporary site office, and tried to calm himself, breathing slowly and heavily, his breath steaming into the night air. It was a clear night, cloudless and starry. The moon, three-quarters full, threw antic shadows across the paving slabs, the patches of dried-out mud and cement, the temporary planking. The disorder of the builders’ materials seemed to suit his own deranged state of mind. He felt no immediate inclination to pass through the door in the hoarding. The thought of hailing a cab and making the journey home sickened him.
At first, when he became aware that he was being watched, his reaction was surprisingly calm. He did not know where the creature had come from, or how it had crept up on him so silently, and for a moment he pondered these questions in a mood of dispassionate curiosity. It dawned on him only slowly that he was in mortal danger; and not just that, but that he was about to die in the most grotesque and unbelievable way. The eyes, the two high, widely separated, beady amber eyes, gazed at him with fixed malevolence. The creature’s legs were long and double-jointed, rising at their apex to a height taller than Freddie himself. The belly, the huge, distended belly, was covered with short hairs which in the moonlight appeared to have a greenish hue; it sagged heavily against the ground, an obscene sac containing vast, revolting liquid secrets.
The creature’s legs quivered and twitched as it readied for the pounce.
Only now did Freddie start to back towards the wall. But with the third or fourth step he tripped and fell, so that he was prone and supine as the spider advanced towards and over him, its legs thrashing and scuttling, the stomach dragging itself across Freddie’s shins, knees and thighs, then over his torso before finally settling on his face, so that the entire vile, colossal weight of the thing was pushing down on him, the stench of it, the thick, coarse texture of the body forcing the gorge up to his throat and sending him quickly, irresistibly into a swoon from which he was never to recover.
17
‘What a whopper!’ bellowed Grace.
‘What — a — whopper!’ echoed Sophia, at half the speed and in a much deeper voice, and, swept up by uncontrollable laughter, they both started rolling around on the playroom floor.
The credits and the title music came up on the screen all too quickly and they started shouting:
‘Oh, Rachel, can we see it again? Please, Rachel!’
‘Just the last scene, Rachel … please!’
Who would have guessed it, Rachel thought, as she rewound the DVD about three minutes. Who would have guessed that of all the things she could have shown them, it would be this terrible, creaky, inept, black and white British comedy film from the early 1960s that would send them into such paroxysms of delight, breaking down the final barriers of icy composure which they had maintained in front of her for so long? She had only bought the DVD two years ago because Laura had mentioned it to her as forming part of her researches: warning her, at the same time, that watching the whole thing would probably destroy her will to live. But the last scene, at least — or rather, the final gag — was a miracle of audacious stupidity. After ninety tedious minutes of joking around with fake Loch Ness Monsters, the real monster (itself about as dreadful an example of low-budget special effects as you could imagine) reared its plastic head out of the water and uttered the three immortal words that Grace and Sophia found so hilarious, and which they were now repeating over and over again, trying to imitate the monster’s droll, deadpan voice as they waited impatiently for the scene to restart.
‘One more time,’ she said. ‘One more time, or we’re going to be late for the train.’
It was Sunday morning, and for the second week in a row she had cancelled her regular date with Jamie. Not, this time, because she had been brusquely summoned to a foreign country to help with ten minutes’ homework. No, this time she had made the decision herself (and had arranged to see him tomorrow during the girls’ school hours instead) because she was determined to get them out of the house for the day, and to take them not to a museum, gallery or gourmet restaurant, but somewhere where they might have some mindless, uncomplicated fun. Chessington World of Adventures seemed the obvious choice. It wasn’t the easiest place to reach by train, but that in itself was part of her plan. She wanted to show them that not everybody in the country travelled in a chauffeured limousine. Other modes of transport were available.
In any case, they ended up having a glorious day. Grace’s favourite ride was the Scorpion Express; Sophia inclined towards the Rattlesnake. They both enjoyed getting soaking wet on Rameses’ Revenge, and they emerged looking pleasantly shocked, dazed and dizzy from the Dragon’s Fury. For Rachel, most of the time was spent standing with them in queues, or watching them on rides and trying to take photographs while they whizzed past on some rollercoaster or carousel. A few months ago, she would never have imagined that this was how she would choose to spend an entire Sunday. But there was a reward at the end of it, and it was a precious one: by the time they returned to Turngreet Road, the twins were more animated and talkative than she’d ever known them, and they both promised her that it had easily been the best day of their lives so far. They had loved everything about it, even the terrible junk food and the crowded, severely delayed train ride home. In fact, sitting opposite them in the packed carriage and watching the bright-eyed curiosity on their faces as they looked around at the other passengers, enthralled by the novelty of finding themselves in contact with this mass of ordinary humanity, Rachel wondered whether this hadn’t been their favourite part of all.