‘You always used to touch me there, remember? In those very first weeks?’
‘You thought it odd.’ His little finger explored her navel, circling, then probing gently.
‘I still do, but I like it. With you.’
His hand moved upwards, seeking her breast, sensing the hardening of her nipple as his fingers grazed over it. His own responses stirred as his body recalled the old familiarities, like a traveller returning after a long journey.
She had unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her fingers inside, spreading them slowly over his ribs, but suddenly she pulled back from him. ‘Wait!’ She peeled off her sweater, tugging it over her head, then sat facing him, naked to the waist, her hair tumbling over her white shoulders. ‘Just in case you’d forgotten what your wife looks like!’ she declared mischievously.
She was proud of her breasts, and with reason. Once or twice in the past she’d played nude scenes on stage — ‘but only when it was integral to the purpose of the play,’ she would explain seriously, her eyes troubled — but she had no cause to be shy. She was one of the few actresses around who could even risk a wide-screen nude close shot and her figure would still look perfect.
Tim reached out for her again but she held him at arm’s length, gazing at him challengingly.
‘You must think me a shameless hussy. Hardly inside the door, and here I am — half-naked already.’
‘I love you, Sue.’
‘That means you do think me shameless!’ Her eyes danced as she slipped her arms about him, kissing him. After a time he felt her right hand wandering over him, then tugging at his belt. ‘With you I am.’
‘I do love you,’ he repeated.
She wriggled away from him, stooped to pick up their glasses and handed him his.
‘Drink,’ she commanded, and waited until he’d obeyed. ‘D’you remember how we used to get gooseflesh in that cold bed-sit because we didn’t want to put our clothes on again? In those days we drank beer — one can between the two of us!’
‘All we could afford,’ he agreed.
Standing up, facing him, she undressed completely, willing him to look at her.
‘Now you. No, don’t move, let me do it.’ She pulled off his shoes, throwing them aside; then his socks. When she saw the fading bruises below his ribs, she said: ‘You did get yourself in a mess, darling. I heard you’d been stung by jellyfish, though you said nothing. They can’t do that much damage, can they?’
‘These can,’ he said grimly. ‘Not your ordinary kind, but—’
She placed a hand over his mouth. ‘No, love. Explanations afterwards, not now. This is our moment, and we mustn’t let anything spoil it. I’ve got the fire on in the bedroom, we can take the bottle through with us — ’
Drawing her towards him, he smothered her words, kissing her with that deep yearning he always experienced whenever he was with her. And she responded, clinging to him, until she fell back across the sofa, her leg curling over his. They lay awkwardly, uncomfortably, until after a while they had to admit it was not going to work and they separated, laughing.
‘Bedroom,’ she said.
‘Fuck the bedroom.’ He grabbed the cushions from the sofa and arranged them over the worn carpet. ‘Here.’
She lowered herself on to them, making room for him, twining herself around him. ‘Oh, Tim,’ she whispered urgently. ‘Oh, Tim, what happened to us? I want you so much. What happened?’
The following morning Sue woke up first. She leaned on her elbow and looked down at Tim who was sleeping with his mouth slightly open, occasionally snorting. Somehow she had to tell him she was going to leave him. She had to find the right moment when she could speak calmly, and be sure he was listening. He’d be hurt, she knew. Especially after the previous evening when they had made love… how many times? In the living-room on those cushions; then a drink while they sat with their arms around each other before wordlessly moving into the bedroom; and eventually they’d taken a bath together… and she’d put the final touches to the meal she’d prepared… and they’d had the wine which turned out to be all the man in the shop had promised… and they’d got back into bed to… well, to rediscover each other… to start afresh…
But she did not intend to start afresh, not this time. She had to explain she’d been having an affair with another actor in the company — Tim had met Mark once, though she doubted if he’d remember — and she planned to move in with him: so could they please talk it over sensibly like two rational people?
A divorce? Yes — what point was there in thinking of anything else?
Over and over again in her mind she’d rehearsed her arguments. Tried to anticipate his reaction. Yes, of course she still loved him, hadn’t she proved that? Physically, at any rate. In that way Mark would never be able to rival him. Tim aroused longings in her she’d never experienced with Mark, and he could satisfy them too.
But was that everything? With Mark she could talk, confident he’d be in tune with her thoughts. It was no longer possible with Tim, not since he went into Gulliver. They were strangers these days even when they were together. She’d only to express an opinion about the theatre, or the play she was in, or the Bomb, to realise how many miles apart they now were.
She gazed down at him as he slept. She’d wanted to make love with him once more; now, some time today, she’d have to face up to it and tell him. Poor Tim. He’d had an awful time with those Welsh jellyfish, though no doubt that girl reporter had been quick enough to comfort him.
And how much truth there was in those other stories he’d told her late last night she couldn’t be sure. That stuff about the abandoned fishing boat with glowing slime over its deck. And his plan to catch a specimen jellyfish to send to a laboratory. Adding garnish to a plain tale, she suspected; she’d caught him out that way before.
Moving slowly, not wishing to disturb him, she swung her legs out of bed and padded into the front room where she lit the gas fire, then stood looking out of the window, rubbing her arms and shivering. The sun sparkled on the sea, inviting her to go in. It would be cold, she knew: but then it couldn’t possibly be as icy as on that mad occasion in the snow when she and Mark had rushed into the waves. A crazy dip that had been, but they’d felt all the better for it afterwards.
Persuading herself it would set her up for facing Tim later, she got into her bikini, grabbed her bathrobe and went downstairs. Outside, the chilly breeze caught her by surprise, but she’d never been one to turn back once she’d made up her mind. She dashed across the road, scrambled through the rail at the far end of the promenade, jumped down on to the sand, and plunged into the water.
After the first shock of cold she found it exhilarating and began to swim parallel with the shore, rising with the waves and enjoying the vast expanse of the open sea.
‘Sue!’
She had been in the water no longer than two or three minutes when Tim appeared on the beach, shouting and waving to her almost hysterically.
‘Sue, for God’s sake come out! Sue!’
He must have spotted her from the window while he was dressing, she thought. As it was, he was wearing only his trousers and was still bare from the waist up. She waved back at him and continued her swim. Tim had always been impatient when he wanted something from her. Probably with his hand in bandages he could not manage his shirt buttons, or something equally silly, but she was determined not to let him spoil her fun; she’d come out in her own good time, not before.
He splashed after her into the sea, wading in until it was above his knees, soaking his trouser legs.
‘Sue — jellyfish!’ he was shouting. ‘Oh, please! Come out!’