I’m worried about Angela.
I never told you. She laid the earrings carefully in the lacquered Indian box with all the others. Elephants and jasmine flowers. I found her in the kitchen the other night.
Found in what sense?
She was standing in the dark, eating a bowl of cereal.
Why didn’t you tell me?
Because I was angry with you and I wasn’t sure that Angela wanted the fact broadcast.
He laid Stalingrad aside. Are you still angry with me?
When you said it wasn’t a binding contract…
I don’t appreciate you enough.
Is this a crappy roundabout way of saying you don’t love me?
I think… He shifted up a little straighter in bed. I think actually it’s a crappy roundabout way of saying I’m not terribly keen on myself.
Richard…
Wait. Downstairs the front door boomed shut. Dominic coming back from his late-night ramble. When you asked me whether I loved you or not…
Stop. Listen. Do you enjoy being with me?
I do.
Do you want me to be happy?
Very much so.
Do you find me attractive?
I think you know the answer to that.
What would you do if I left and you were on your own?
I’d think I’d very possibly fall to pieces, not immediately maybe, but…
Would you risk your life for me?
I’d risk my life for many people. A small child running into the road, a woman drowning in a river. Correction. I think I would actually give my life for you. If it were me or you. Lifeboat, burning building. He had never thought about this before.
Bloody hell, Richard. If that’s not love… She sounded genuinely annoyed.
I’ve never really loved anyone, or been loved, come to think of it, as an adult, I mean. He looked at his hands as if the notes written on his palm no longer made sense. Dear God, that was breathtakingly mawkish, wasn’t it? The other men, by the way. Am I allowed to feel a little jealous?
They were horrible and I was having a shitty time. She laid her head on his lap. Incidentally, Daisy’s a lesbian. Apparently.
He looked at the ceiling. He felt suddenly exhausted. You’re going to have to tell me that again in the morning.
♦
Daisy wants happiness, of course, to belong, to be loved, but more than this she wants her life to have some kind of shape, not just this pinball zigzag from one accident to another. Even tragedy will do, so long as she can say, I see now what it means. This is who I am.
Has she discovered the truth or lost her way? What will happen at church, at school, at home? Jack hasn’t rung back and she doesn’t know what this means. She has no idea what Mum or Dad really feel, no idea, in truth, what she feels herself, except for a yearning so intense and nameless that she doesn’t know if it is a longing for a girlfriend, or for God, or simply for those everyday discomforts which now seem in retrospect a blessing. She can’t read, can’t even lie down, so she paces, now staring out of the window into the dark, now squatting in the corner of the room, now sitting on the chair and rocking gently back and forwards. Do not be fooled, this is not a place.
♦
Benjy lay for a while looking at the inverted cream pyramid of the lampshade. It reminded him of a film in which someone was wheeled into an operating theatre and the camera was looking up at the ceiling from their point of view. This, in turn, made him think of Carly’s dad from school having his heart attack which made him think about Granny’s funeral and he was scared that he might have one of those dreams that wasn’t quite a dream. He looked at the clock. 11:30. Mum and Dad might still be awake. He went out on to the landing, walked to the top of the stairs, looked over the banisters and saw that the lights were on in the dining room. When he went down and stood in the hall, however, he could hear no one. Mum…? Dad…? He was afraid of stepping through the door for fear that someone was behind it holding their breath.
He was going to turn and walk silently back upstairs when he heard a beep and saw a light come on briefly in the pocket of a coat hanging by the door. It made him jump at first but it was a text message arriving on a mobile phone and this made the house seem more modern and humdrum. The phone was in Dad’s coat. Mum allowed him to play the games on her phone, but he was never allowed to play on Dad’s. So he invented a story in which Dad was receiving a vital message from someone who was in grave danger and who needed help. He would look at the message and take the phone up to Dad who would be cross at first then really grateful. He paused beside the coat, listening again to the silence. If it wasn’t a message calling for help he could simply put the phone back and no one would know. He slipped his hand into the pocket and extracted it. He wanted a mobile of his own, not really for making calls, but for the way it felt so right in the palm of his hand, like a gun or a dagger. He pressed the main button and the face lit up. In the background was the photograph of him and Daisy and Alex on the big pebbly beach near Blakeney, and in the centre of the screen was a little blue square saying Message. He tapped it. Blakeney vanished and the message said, call me I can’t bear this any longer amy xxx and he didn’t know whether this was an emergency or a secret, only that he had done something very wrong.
7: Thursday
Louisa lies on her pillow, watching Richard sleep. Something first date about it, that shiver, not knowing whom you’re inviting into your life.
Dominic shits in the half-light, blind down, opening the window afterwards to clear the smell.
Daisy almost wakes, senses something dangerous at the cave’s mouth and turns back to the furs and embers and smoke.
Benjy thinks he has had a bad dream, except it’s not a bad dream, is it, because it happened last night. He gets up, hoping to outrun the memory, makes himself a breakfast of Bran Flakes and red grape juice, plays Super Mario and reads Mr Gum, but when his mind’s eye wanders he sees it watching him, like a hooded figure from an upstairs window.
Angela lies looking at the little rose-coloured lamp on the bedside table, knowing that something bad is going to happen, not knowing how to prepare for its arrival. Every day she finds out more and understands less. This lostness? Do other people feel this? Do other people live with this?
♦
A tremor as Alex ran past the point where he’d found Richard. The narrowness of the escape. They’d come close on occasions, him, Jamie, Josh, slipping on Crib Goch, going over that weir with Aaron during one of the Watersides, but they were funny afterwards, whereas this upset him, the weird feeling that he had made it happen in some way. But it was fucking amazing up here, like a different place today, like being inside the sky. Sad to leave it behind. As if he owned it in some small way. He checked his watch. 10:15. Clocktower at 12:30, no problem. Last third pretty much downhill all the way. Almost disappointed by the good weather. Two thermals and a waterproof in the zip pocket of his bottle belt, cash, mobile, Twix. Quite liked the idea of running through another storm like yesterday, showing everyone how to do it. Plus the other disturbing thing was that he’d had a wank that morning thinking about Melissa kissing another girl, but the other girl kept turning into Daisy so he had to have one of those really quick wanks where you just went for it and didn’t think about anything at all.