Chapter 33
He smelled her hair first. It was spread all over his pillow. Black and long and in need of a shampoo. He picked up a strand between his finger and rubbed it under his nose. It felt like satin knickers.
He manoeuvred his body slowly on to its side and looked at her.
She was fast asleep, her long lashes resting against her cheekbones, her lips slightly parted.
He looked down at her bare breast. It was tiny.
But it did everything that a breast was supposed to do.
It had a neat nipple that was in proportion to the size of the breast and was a nice caramelly colour.
The breast itself was round and firm and the nipple tipped ever so slightly upwards, giving it just the right amount of perkiness.
He cupped it with his hand and felt her heart beating underneath, a slow, resting beat in rhythm with the little puffs of breath that slipped between her lips.
Well, well, well, he thought to himself, smiling, I’m in bed with Bee’s sister. As Old Domehead had put it so eloquently yesterday – it’s a funny old world.
He took his hand from her breast and very quietly got out of the bed and headed towards the kitchen.
It was eight-thirty. The kids next door were already screaming and shouting.
A paddling pool had now been added to their artillery of annoying, noise-producing garden contraptions.
He made two mugs of tea and padded back to the bedroom, where Ana was just stirring.
He grinned at her while she rubbed her eyes.
‘Hi,’ he said, handing her her tea.
‘Hi,’ she said, taking it from him and pulling the duvet up around her armpits.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘this is a turn-up for the books, isn’t it?’
‘Mmm,’ murmured Ana, taking a slurp of tea.
‘How you doing?’
‘Er …’ – she grinned and put her tea on the bedside table – ‘good. I’m good.’ And then she beamed at him – a huge toothy, tonsilly grin, and for the first time ever Flint could see something of Bee in her.
‘That’s what I like to hear.’
‘You know, Gill told me specifically not to do that.’
‘What?’
‘Have sex with you.’
Flint liked the fact that she said ‘have sex’ and not ‘make love’, surely one of the vilest expressions known to man. ‘And why’s that, exactly?’
‘She told me you were an old tart. That you’d sleep with anything with a hole in it.’
‘She said what?’
‘She said that you weren’t as nice as you seemed. That you weren’t to be trusted.’
‘And what exactly did she base that judgement on?’
‘On the fact that you’ve slept with her. And Lol. And Cathy – whoever the hell Cathy is.’
Flint raised his eyebrows and groaned. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘for God’s sake. I can’t believe she told you that. That’s so unfair.’
‘But true?’
‘Yeah it’s true. But that was fucking aeons ago.
We were all young. All in our twenties. Thought that sex was just a big game.
And for a while, after I got back from Japan and I wasn’t even drinking any more, it was the only vice I had.
I slept around a lot when I was younger – a hell of a lot – it wasn’t like I made a point of only sleeping with people I knew. ’
‘And Bee?’
‘What about Bee?’
‘You slept with Bee, too …’
‘Oh. God.’ He let his head drop on to his fist. ‘Yes,’ he sighed. ‘I slept with Bee. Once. About a week after we met. And that was it.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why did you only sleep with her once?’
Flint thought about it for a moment. ‘Because it seemed wrong.’
‘Wrong?’
‘Yeah. Not right. It was embarrassing. Awkward. A mistake.’
‘And these days?’
‘What?’
‘Do you still – sleep around?’
He shrugged. ‘Nah,’ he smiled, ‘not like I used to. I mean I still have my moments, you know. But I’m an old man now – it’s not my raison d’être any more.’
‘And when was the last …?’
‘About a month ago.’
‘And she was …?’
‘She was Angela. She was twenty-nine. She’d hired the car for her hen night.’
‘You know on Monday night, when I asked you about Bee? About whether you’d ever been in love with her? And you said you’d never been in love with anyone? Did you really mean that?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘But – I don’t really understand. I mean – you’re thirty-six years old. How did you get to be so old without falling in love with anyone?’
‘Ah, now. I said I’d never been in love. Not that I’d never fallen in love. I’ve fallen in love a few times.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘Well, one is a process. The other is a state. I’ve been through the process but never found the state. At one stage in my life I persuaded myself that maybe the process was the state and I married her.’
‘What!’
‘Yup – it lasted fourteen months.’
‘Who was she?’
‘A client. Girl called Ciara. She was a dancer. Irish girl.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘We didn’t like each other.’
Ana laughed. ‘That simple?’
‘Yup. That simple. We just woke up one morning and both decided that we really couldn’t stand each other.’
‘So – how do you differentiate between the process and the state?’
‘You need to be able to differentiate between insanity and sanity. Because that’s the difference between falling in love and being in love. One is a state of total and utter madness, the other a state of pure clarity and peace. Or so I’ve been told.’ He smirked.
Ana smiled and rested her chin on her knees. ‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘What for?’
‘For giving you the third degree. It’s just that Gill made you sound so awful …’
‘Yeah, well – Gill’s not … ’He paused. ‘ … Nothing.’
‘Gill’s not what?’
‘Nothing,’ said Flint. ‘Forget I said anything.’
‘No way! Gill’s not what?’
He sighed. ‘Gill’s not … the type to take rejection very well.’
‘What – you mean, she’s tried and you said no?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘When?’
‘Oh. On a pretty regular basis. When she’s pissed usually. When Gill’s pissed she turns into a complete raving nympho.’
‘Yeah,’ smiled Ana, ‘I’ve noticed. But from what I’ve seen, you’re not exactly her usual type, are you?’
‘You mean the black guys?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Yeah. Gill loves her black guys. And they seem to love her, too, actually. I mean – don’t get me wrong – I do like Gill.
You know, I’ve known her half my life. But when it comes to sex, she’s a bit fucked up.
I wouldn’t pay too much attention to anything she says – she’s got a skewed vision of sex.
She seems to think it’s an Olympic event. ’
Flint took a sip of tea and looked at Ana. ‘Here’s a question for you,’ he said, ‘how come you’re only asking me about all this right now – why didn’t you ask me last night – before … you know?’
Ana grinned at him. ‘Because,’ she said, ‘last night I wasn’t really in the mood for talking.’
Flint smiled and took another sip of tea.
‘You must think I’m dreadful,’ said Ana.
‘What?’ laughed Flint.
‘Last night. I don’t really know what happened. I was just … overcome. Not that I didn’t want to, before, or anything. I’ve been wanting to since I first saw you … oh.’ She put her hand over her mouth and looked embarrassed.
Flint laughed. ‘You dirty old mare,’ he grinned. ‘And I thought you were such a nice girl.’
‘I am,’ she insisted, ‘I’m a very nice girl. In fact you’re only the second man I’ve slept with.’
‘I know.’
‘What! How?’
‘The delightful Hugh told me. He told me that he taught you everything you know. And I have to say that as much as it makes me want to hurl to admit it, or even to think about it, for that matter – he did a fine, fine job.’
‘Last night,’ said Ana, ‘was nothing to do with Hugh, I can assure you.’
‘Oh no?’ said Flint, putting his tea down and grabbing Ana by the waist.
‘No,’ said Ana, passing her hands over his buttocks, ‘what happened last night was the inevitable result of being driven around London in a stretch limo at midnight by a large handsome man in a suit, while drinking champagne and listening to good music. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.’
‘Is that what I’ve got to do every time I want to do this with you then? Take you for a drive?’
‘No,’ she said, looking confidently and directly into his eyes, ‘only the first time. After that all you have to do is ask.’
Flint stared into her eyes. Who was this person? This person with sparkling eyes and ready lips? This person whose body he could feel underneath his, long and taut and accommodating? This person who was like Ana only different? Whoever she was, he liked her, liked her even more than the other Ana.
‘Please may I have sex with you, Ana?’ he said.
‘You most certainly may,’ she said, guiding him on top of her and, as she pulled his face towards hers and put her lips against his, Flint just wanted to punch the air and shout, ‘You’ve come a long way, baby …’