of saliva.
She sat back against the sofa, shaking, sucking in breath after breath, while on the floor the ball bounced and bounced. It hit the curtains and came to a juddering halt.
11
‘Hey. I found you.’ Steve stood in the kitchen doorway. He was naked, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms above his head. ‘God, I slept well. I love it here.’
‘Sit down.’ Sally got an elastic band out of a drawer, bound Millie’s card to the outside of the pack and pushed it into the back of one of the drawers. She turned to check the milk that was heating on the stove. ‘I’ve got to get going. Got to be at work at nine.’
‘No time for hanky-panky, then?’
‘I’ve got to be at work.’
He smiled and stretched some more. His hands found the low ceiling and he used it to press himself down, bending his knees, lengthening his body and cracking the sleep out of his muscles. He was different in every way from Julian, who had been pale and hairless with soft arms and womanly hips. Steve was big, with dark hair and a solid, suntanned neck. His legs were hard and hairy, like a centaur’s. Looking at him now, stretching, was like watching one of Leonardo da Vinci’s anatomy studies come to life.
She stood at the hob, whisking the milk into froth, shooting him surreptitious looks as he wandered around, yawning and checking inside the fridge. It had been four months since they’d got together and she still couldn’t quite believe he was here. Steve had given her sex on the brain: if she had even half an hour between cleaning jobs, she’d scurry over to his house and they’d end up naked on the kitchen floor. Or on the stairs, halfway up to the bedroom. It was totally different from being with Julian. Maybe she was having a mid-life crisis. At thirty-five.
Steve was in ‘corporate espionage’. Sally wasn’t entirely sure what that meant – but he always seemed to be dealing with people who lived in remote and glamorous places. His address book, which she’d seen lying open at his house one day, was crammed with addresses in countries like the Emirates, Liberia and South Africa, and more than once he’d had to set his alarm for the middle of the night so he could get up and take a conference call with someone in Peru or Bolivia. He wore a suit when he left the house in the morning, but in her imagination he wore a black polo-neck and jeans and had secret knives fitted in his soles. She had no idea why he wanted to be with someone as stupid as she was. Maybe it was because she was so easy. He only had to look at her and she’d roll backwards on to the bed, her legs open, a blank, grateful smile on her face.
‘So.’ He linked his fingers and cracked the knuckles. Rolled his head. ‘Where’re you working today?’
‘North.’
‘Not Goldrab again?’
‘No. Not today.’ She spooned frothy milk on to two cups of coffee, shook cocoa powder on to them from a metal flour-shaker and put a cup in front of him. She went back to the oven and busied herself with laying croissants on a tray. ‘Yesterday he offered me another job. Cleaning still, but doing the admin for his house too.’
‘Are you going to take it?’
‘It’s a lot of money.’
Steve stirred his coffee, thinking about this. ‘Look,’ he said, after a while, ‘I’ve never said anything, but the truth is I kind of worry about you when you’re there.’
‘Worry? Why?’
‘Put it this way – I know a lot about him. A lot I’d rather not know.’
She slammed the oven door, straightened and turned to him, pushing her hair from her forehead. ‘How?’
He laughed. ‘How long have you lived in Bath? You know that Disneyland ride, Small World, with the little kids singing, “It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears”? That’s Bath for you – a small, small world. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.’
She got jam and butter from the fridge, collected knives and napkins, thinking about this. He was right. They all sort
She sat back against the sofa, shaking, sucking in breath after breath, while on the floor the ball bounced and bounced. It hit the curtains and came to a juddering halt.
11
‘Hey. I found you.’ Steve stood in the kitchen doorway. He was naked, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms above his head. ‘God, I slept well. I love it here.’
‘Sit down.’ Sally got an elastic band out of a drawer, bound Millie’s card to the outside of the pack and pushed it into the back of one of the drawers. She turned to check the milk that was heating on the stove. ‘I’ve got to get going. Got to be at work at nine.’
‘No time for hanky-panky, then?’
‘I’ve got to be at work.’
He smiled and stretched some more. His hands found the low ceiling and he used it to press himself down, bending his knees, lengthening his body and cracking the sleep out of his muscles. He was different in every way from Julian, who had been pale and hairless with soft arms and womanly hips. Steve was big, with dark hair and a solid, suntanned neck. His legs were hard and hairy, like a centaur’s. Looking at him now, stretching, was like watching one of Leonardo da Vinci’s anatomy studies come to life.
She stood at the hob, whisking the milk into froth, shooting him surreptitious looks as he wandered around, yawning and checking inside the fridge. It had been four months since they’d got together and she still couldn’t quite believe he was here. Steve had given her sex on the brain: if she had even half an hour between cleaning jobs, she’d scurry over to his house and they’d end up naked on the kitchen floor. Or on the stairs, halfway up to the bedroom. It was totally different from being with Julian. Maybe she was having a mid-life crisis. At thirty-five.
Steve was in ‘corporate espionage’. Sally wasn’t entirely sure what that meant – but he always seemed to be dealing with people who lived in remote and glamorous places. His address book, which she’d seen lying open at his house one day, was crammed with addresses in countries like the Emirates, Liberia and South Africa, and more than once he’d had to set his alarm for the middle of the night so he could get up and take a conference call with someone in Peru or Bolivia. He wore a suit when he left the house in the morning, but in her imagination he wore a black polo-neck and jeans and had secret knives fitted in his soles. She had no idea why he wanted to be with someone as stupid as she was. Maybe it was because she was so easy. He only had to look at her and she’d roll backwards on to the bed, her legs open, a blank, grateful smile on her face.
‘So.’ He linked his fingers and cracked the knuckles. Rolled his head. ‘Where’re you working today?’
‘North.’
‘Not Goldrab again?’
‘No. Not today.’ She spooned frothy milk on to two cups of coffee, shook cocoa powder on to them from a metal flour-shaker and put a cup in front of him. She went back to the oven and busied herself with laying croissants on a tray. ‘Yesterday he offered me another job. Cleaning still, but doing the admin for his house too.’
‘Are you going to take it?’
‘It’s a lot of money.’
Steve stirred his coffee, thinking about this. ‘Look,’ he said, after a while, ‘I’ve never said anything, but the truth is I kind of worry about you when you’re there.’
‘Worry? Why?’
‘Put it this way – I know a lot about him. A lot I’d rather not know.’
She slammed the oven door, straightened and turned to him, pushing her hair from her forehead. ‘How?’
He laughed. ‘How long have you lived in Bath? You know that Disneyland ride, Small World, with the little kids singing, “It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears”? That’s Bath for you – a small, small world. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.’
She got jam and butter from the fridge, collected knives and napkins, thinking about this. He was right. They all sort
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