Текст книги "The House on Fever Street"

Автор книги: Celina Grace

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Chapter Twelve

 

Bella awoke to a blustery day, the curtains at the open window billowing into the room as the wind gusted outside. She curled herself into the duvet and felt Jake's warm arm slip around her from behind. She hesitated, wondering how to play it.

"Sorry," he murmured, into the back of her neck.

Bella wavered, and then once again gave in. She just didn't feel strong enough for another quarrel. Besides... she scooted herself round to face him and kissed him, oblivious to his morning breath.

He made love to her, rolling her over to face away from him, his hand steady on her hip. Bella worried briefly about being late for work and tamped down on the thought. This was more important.

“Were you dreaming about sweets?” she asked him, when she came back from the shower. Jake was just pulling on his jacket.

“Sweets?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

Bella dropped the towel from around her onto the floor.

“Oh, you were talking in your sleep again. You kept saying ‘candy’.” She giggled. “Over and over again. ‘Candy, candy, candy.’ I thought it was a bit weird, because, well, you’re not American, are you?”

She stretched a leg out and began to smooth body lotion into it, working her fingers against the skin. The long bone of her shin glistened in the dim bedroom light. She became aware of a silence in the room and looked up. Jake was staring at the wall, one hand arrested in the act of pulling at his jacket sleeve.

“Jake?”

There was no answer. Bella stood up and made a move towards him.

“Jake? Are you okay?”

He turned towards her like an automaton. Bella took a step back at the frozen expression on his face.

“Jake?” she faltered.

He smiled, a rictus grin, or at least moved the muscles of his face. She smiled tentatively back.

“What’s up?”

“I’m fine,” he said tonelessly. He stretched the corners of his mouth again. “I’ve got to go. Sorry hon but I’m going to be late.”

“Okay.”

Bella watched him walk stiffly from the room and heard him go down the stairs, a slow plod as opposed to his usual canter. She almost called after him but decided against it. Don’t rock the boat, Bella, she told herself and went back to her moisturising.

Despite Jake’s momentary weirdness, she went to work with a spring in her step, buoyed up again by the resolution to their argument. Even the day's dull tasks didn't seem quite so boring as usual. She washed up cups in the tiny, fetid kitchen, humming as she worked.

"You're in a good mood."

Tracey was poking about in the cupboards in a search for tea bags. She looked over at Bella at the sink and grinned.

"And it's a Monday too."

"I know." Bella upended the last cup on the draining board. "Don't know what's wrong with me."

"You must have had a good weekend?"

"Mmm," said Bella.

She finished off some filing that had been stuck on her desk for the past two weeks. Slotting each file into place brought its own satisfactions. She went out for lunch at one o’clock and treated herself to a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel. She went into Muji and bought a set of storage boxes, folded flat. Their room at Fever Street was a right mess – she’d been meaning to clean it up for days. The boxes would help.

She was tired when she got home and left her shopping bags on the bed. She’d have a proper clean up tomorrow. Bella pulled on her tracksuit bottoms and headed downstairs in search of food.

Veronica came home as she’d put the finishing touches to a bolognaise sauce. Bella looked up at the slam of the front door and smiled as Veronica came into the kitchen.

“Is there wine? I need wine.”

Veronica slung her bag on the table. She wore a gun-metal grey suit, high-necked with a short, tight skirt. Wearing it, she moved more stiffly than normal, as if her limbs were slowly turning to stone, thought Bella fancifully.

“Christ, what a day.”

“Mmm. I hate Mondays.”

“Where are the boys?”

Bella shrugged.

“Oh well – who cares – “

Veronica poured herself another hefty slug of wine. Bella watched her long throat ripple as she swallowed.

“You going out tonight?”

“No fear. Not on a Monday.”

Veronica nodded. “Let’s watch a film, or something.”

“Okay.”

Bella felt a little pulse of happiness. She felt accepted suddenly, for the first time. I’m part of it now, she thought. I’m part of the family. She held out a plate to Veronica.

“Would you like some dinner?”

They curled up on each end of the sofa after the meal, another bottle of red wine open on the coffee table before them. Bella made herself a nest of cushions, padding the back and sides of the sofa, while Veronica tucked a rug over her long legs, folding herself neatly into the corner of the couch. The gas fire was lit and flickering softly, there were candles casting small golden circles of light on the mantelpiece, and the curtains were drawn firmly across the window and tucked behind the radiator that stood breathing warmth into the room. For the first time, Bella found the house cosy. She and Veronica watched a bit of television, some tacky reality TV show, and then they found a romantic comedy that was just starting on Five. Veronica poured them both another brimming glass of wine and they watched the feeble story unfold, giggling at the terrible jokes, snorting at the numerous love scenes. Bella couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed herself more. But as the level of the wine bottle went down, and the minutes ticked by, she became away of a rising anxiety, undercutting their easy closeness. Where was Jake? Surely he was normally home by now? Where was he?

Carl came home just as the end credits of the film began to scroll slowly upwards on the television screen. He kissed Veronica on the mouth and then walked past Bella, putting a finger to her cheek. She looked up at him in the dim light, startled.

“Where’s that little brother of mine?”

“I don’t know,” said Bella. He smelt just like Jake – they must use the same aftershave. She shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t know where he is.”

“Probably working late,” said Veronica. She uncurled herself from the sofa. “You should check your mobile, he’s probably left you a message.”

Bella had checked it, surreptitiously, on her last trip to the toilet. There had been no message, no little text icon on the screen.

“No, it’s okay,” said Bella, unwilling to risk their concern or worse, their ridicule. “Actually, I think he said he was working late tonight.”

Carl nodded.

“Christ, I’m wiped. V, what’s for dinner?”

Veronica looked at Bella in mute appeal. Bella raised her eyebrows at the expression on her face and suddenly twigged.

“Er – I cooked tonight. There’s loads left, it’s on the stove.” She hoped that was true.

Carl nodded again.

“Can you cook?” he asked. “Or am I going to take one mouthful and drop dead of food poisoning?”

Bella swallowed. She never knew how to take Carl, she couldn’t tell when he was being serious or when he wasn’t. She hoped the frown on his face at the moment wasn’t a real one. She looked at Veronica and was startled to see the expression on her face. She looked afraid. There was no other word for it. Bella felt a prickle of unease. She tried to smile.

“I hope I can cook. I haven’t killed anyone yet.”

Veronica moved suddenly on the sofa and Carl turned his head to look at her, quickly but expressionlessly. Bella stared at him. She found she was curling her fingers into her palms again and forced herself to relax.

“I’ll risk it,” said Carl. He extended a hand to Veronica who took it, slowly. The two of them left the room.

Bella turned her attention back to the television but soon she was staring blankly at the flickering screen, thinking back on what she’d seen. And where the hell was Jake? She reached for her wineglass and drained it, feeling the sour red wine slide over her tongue, puckering her mouth. She could hear the murmur of voices from the kitchen. Christ, she hoped there was some food left; Carl had looked so forbidding. For a moment, she felt like crying. She felt suddenly lost, the warm cosy mood of the evening punctured by his return. She turned off the TV and made her way up the stairs, wondering whether she was going mad, or if it was just the rest of the world.

Chapter Thirteen

 

Jake paused, gasping for breath. Bella tried to smile up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He began to thrust again, slamming himself into her. Bella held onto his back, fingers slipping. Her gasps were jolted from her but as his tempo increased, it began to hurt. She could feel herself start to tense up and then it hurt more.

“Jake – “

He said nothing, pumping his hips faster. His face was grimly set, teeth clenched. For a moment, Bella experienced a brief flash of fear – it was like looking up into the face of a stranger.

“Jake – ow – “

His thrusting reached a peak and he groaned, almost shouted.

Bella sucked in her breath, a quick gasp of pain. Jake fell forward onto her, his sweaty face buried in the pillow beside her neck. She could feel him panting against the throb of her jugular.

He slid out of her and she winced. He didn’t say anything.

Normally, they cuddled after sex but this time he rolled onto his back. She had the feeling he would have turned away from her completely if he could, if he thought she wouldn’t comment.

They lay there beside each other in the dark, listening to their breathing slowly wind down. Bella touched herself tentatively and pulled her breath in again at the rawness between her legs.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jake, finally.

Bella hesitated. “I’m a bit sore.”

“Oh. Well, I would have stopped if you’d asked me.”

She winced again at his tone.

“I did, I said – “

“No you didn’t. I didn’t hear you say anything.”

Bella’s throat began to close up. She tried to keep her voice calm.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s the matter with me. It’s just my bloody girlfriend that seems to have the problem.”

Bella paused for a moment. Something was all wrong – surely this wasn’t all her fault?

“What do you mean?” she said and heard, with a kind of panic, the wobble in her voice.

Jake was silent for a moment. Then he said, with a hard, bitter edge to his voice, “Christ, I’m amazed I can do it at all, given all this grief.”

That was when Bella began to lose her temper. She sat up in bed, pulling the duvet up to cover her chest.

“What? What the hell does that mean? What did I say?”

Jake turned away from her. She looked at the rigidity of his back, held stiffly away from her.

“God, now it’s all my fault that you aren’t satisfied. I’m not a fucking machine, Bella, I can’t do it to order.”

“What are you talking about?” Bella wasn’t sure whether her anger or her bewilderment had the upper hand. “I didn’t – what did I say apart from ‘I’m sore’? I am sore! What, am I supposed to lie about it?”

Jake was on his feet so quickly she flinched back from him. He knelt naked on the mattress and shouted at her, a foot from her startled face. In an instant, he was transformed, his face an ugly, snarling mask.

“You’re not supposed to do fucking anything! Who the fuck asked you anyway? Go on, fuck off!”

Bella looked at him, open-mouthed, terrified, bewildered. He stood up, snatched up her dressing gown that lay at the foot of the bed, and flung it at her.

"Go on, get out!"

The door slammed behind her. Bella stood in the hallway, weeping and shivering.

There were murmurings from Carl's room further down the corridor, and then the door opened and Veronica's sleepy blonde head poked out.

"What's going on?"

Bella was beyond pretending everything was okay. She wasn't able to say anything – she just stood there, shaking her head and sobbing. She heard the bass rumble of Carl's voice as he asked a question. Veronica shook her head at him and stepped outside into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

"Shhh, Bella, it's okay."

Her arms went around Bella, who lowered her wet face onto the other girl's shoulder. Veronica rocked her back and forth.

"It's okay, don't cry. Don't cry. I won't ask you what this is all about but – hey – did you want to sleep in my bed tonight? I'm not using it. Don't cry. It'll all seem different in the morning."

Bella nodded gratefully, swiping her hand under her running nose. At that moment, she hated Jake – hated him for putting her through this misery, for being so unreasonable. She felt more tears well up and put her hand up to her eyes to quell them.

Veronica led her into her bedroom and pulled back the covers. Bella wriggled into the fragrant sheets and Veronica pulled the covers tenderly over her. She stroked Bella's hair back from her forehead.

"Ignore him," she said quietly. "It's the only way to win, believe me."

Bella stared up at her in the half-dark. The bedclothes were beginning to warm around her, while Veronica's soft hand moved smoothly over her forehead, stroking her hair away from her face. Bella felt lulled, a child soothed after a nightmare. Veronica's hand moved slowly down to the ends of her hair that curled about her breast, up again to Bella's forehead, down again to the ends of her hair, slowly, slowly. Bella felt a gradual heat begin to rise within her and her nipples stiffened under the thin cotton of her dressing gown. Veronica's fingers moved softly down her cheek, barely skimming her neck, over her collarbone, sinking downwards to stroke gently over the raised bumps of her rigid areole. Bella felt her breathing begin to quicken. Veronica's hand went up again to her face, down again to her breast, brushing softly. Bella felt the pulse that had begun to beat between her legs thump harder. She swallowed.

"Will you be alright?" said Veronica. She breathed it out. Bella nodded mutely.

"Good. Sleep well then."

Veronica bent lower and kissed her on the mouth. For a second, she felt the merest pressure of the other girl's tongue and felt the heat within her leap up a notch. Then Veronica was gone, walking away from her towards the door, shutting it behind her. Bella lay beneath the bedclothes, on fire.

*

She woke slowly, her head clogged with the remnants of her dreams. Each eyelid felt as if a lead weight was attached to it and the room revealed itself to her in flutters. There was a reason though, for waking – something was tugging at the corner of her consciousness. She came fully awake at the same time as she realised someone was in the room. Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed.

She bolted upright, gasping in sudden panic. The figure didn’t move. Bella clutched the duvet to her chest, feeling her heart thump against her ribcage.

The dark shape chuckled and Bella fell back against the pillows, breathless with adrenaline and relief. It was only Carl. But what was he doing sitting on her bed, in the dark?

“Carl, you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were a nightmare come to life.”

He smiled and she could see the dim gleam of his teeth in the darkness. “Thanks a lot.”

“You know what I mean.” Bella exhaled loudly, bringing a shaking hand up to her forehead. She felt weak from the backwash of adrenaline. “I thought – I thought – well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. God, you scared me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m very scary.”

Bella pulled the duvet more tightly to her chest. She was remembering the events of the night before and for a second, didn’t know whether she felt worse about Jake, or about Veronica. Her thoughts thronged. For a few moments, she forgot about Carl, sat on the edge of her bed. She almost jumped as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I was miles away. What was it you wanted?”

He sighed. Bella frowned at him in the dimness of the bedroom.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he said, with a faint, unpleasant emphasis on the first word. “I’m okay, Bella. Can you say the same?”

“What?” She stared at him, nonplussed, trying to make out the cast of his features in the poor light.

“I’m fine and dandy, Bella. How about you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, troubled anew by his tone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That’s for you to tell me, isn’t it? Or tell my brother. Treating you okay, is he? Keeping you happy?”

Bella smiled uneasily. He heard the argument last night – he must have. What must he think of her?

“Yes he is –“

“Because you know you can always come to me if he’s not.” Carl lent forward a little and Bella shrank back against the pillows. She was very aware that she was naked beneath the dressing gown.

“I know what he’s like, you see,” said Carl quietly. He looked down at his hands, which were folding the duvet cover into a pleat. I know what he’s like. I don’t know – “

He trailed off. Bella stared at him.

“He’s not been the same since, you know, the bombings,” Carl said. “He’s really not been the same.”

“Jake’s fine,” she said, a little shakily. “He’s fine. We’re both fine. We’re getting over it.”

“Ah, yes. It. Can you really get over something like that? Can you really push it back into being a distant memory?” Carl’s voice slowed for a moment. “Doesn’t something like that stay with you forever?”

“I don’t know.” Bella felt another spurt of unease, stronger this time. She suddenly wanted very much to be clothed in thick fabrics, with the curtains pulled back and the daylight flooding in. Most of all, she wanted to be much further away from Carl than she was at the moment.

“You don’t like to talk about it, do you? I’ve noticed that. Well, you don’t like to talk about it with me – or with V. Do you and Jake talk about it? Do you discuss it?”

“I – well – I don’t –“

“That’s what a good relationship is all about though, isn’t it?” Carl shifted infinitesimally closer to her. “Sharing each other’s lives. Talking it over.”

“I suppose so,” said Bella, uneasily. She tightened her grip on the duvet cover. She had a momentary, wild vision of Carl ripping the quilt away from her and taking her dressing gown with it. And then doing – what? She took a deep breath.

“Did you want something in particular, Carl? It’s just that, I was about to get up…”

Carl smiled. “I just thought I’d see if you were okay. You know, with things. With Jake. I know he can be a bit – a bit difficult sometimes. I’m his brother, I’ve lived with him nearly all my life. He can be a bit – a bit challenging, sometimes. But he means well. He’s obviously very fond of you.”

Bella nodded. “I hope so. I think so.” With difficulty, she pushed aside the last vision she’d had of Jake’s face, distorted by anger.

“It’s just that – “ Carl leaned forward slightly. “I’m just a bit worried about him.” He was silent for a moment and when he next spoke, he sounded very sad and very young. “I do worry about him. I always have done. But since the bombings – he’s not been quite himself. I think he’s still a bit traumatised. Do you think so?”

“Well – perhaps –“

“Has he mentioned being, well, stressed to you? Stressed about anything? Anything at all? Has he said anything?”

Bella stared at Carl.

“What exactly are you saying?”

He waved a hand dismissively. His voice had returned to its normal sardonic drawl.

“Oh nothing serious, nothing like that. I just wanted your opinion, that’s all. On Jake. On how he is.”

Bella thought for a moment of telling the truth. Of revealing Jake’s bad dreams, his volatile moods, his sudden, ferocious eruptions of temper. But then she remembered the other times, his little boy lost face, his moments of tenderness. His declarations of love. She couldn’t betray him like that.

“I would tell you if I was worried,” she said, crossing her fingers beneath the bedclothes. “But I do think he’s okay.”

Carl sat back, releasing the duvet. He smoothed out the crease he’d made.

“Well, that’s fine then” he said, somewhat coolly. “But you will come to me if you get worried, won’t you Bella? If he, well, starts to get worse. If he says anything a bit, well, strange. You know what I mean.”

“Right,” said Bella, smiling uncertainly. Carl held her gaze for a moment longer. Then he grinned, fleetingly.

“Good girl. You’re a good girl, Bella. I know I can rely on you.”

The bedspring creaked minutely as he stood up. Bella watched him walk to the door, a big, forbidding shape in the half-light. He looked so like Jake from the back. Jake – she felt a pang at the thought of him. She would go and find him and apologise and they would put last night behind them.

Carl turned at the door as if to say something else. He didn’t though. He grinned again, a flash of teeth in the dimness and then left, shutting the door behind him. She heard his heavy footsteps creaking away from her, down the long, echoing hallway.