Chapter 36
Ginger’s room had vast windows covered by thin net curtains, and looked out on to a tiny backyard where a kid played with a mitt and ball, throwing it at the wall over and over again, the thudding sound waking up Alice most mornings as Merlin snored next to her. Thud-thud-thud.
This is it, she thought, and she knew, as she unbuttoned her dress, as she tugged it over her head, as she knelt on the bed in front of Tom.
He held her hands, his face serious, and then he looked up at her with a smile of such sweetness, such dark, delicious happiness, that she felt the air had been sucked out of her and the room swam before her eyes. She wanted him so much, it was almost an ache.
He slid the shirt off her shoulders, smoothing his hands over her bare flesh. He stared at her for a moment, then took her hands gently in his and squeezed them. Then he moved his hands up to her breasts, his breathing laboured.
‘Allie –’ His mouth took her left breast, teasing the nipple, tonguing it back and forth, gently kissing her soft skin, her peaked, tight nipples, and with one hand he reached between her legs to touch her.
Alice, closing her eyes, felt as though the sun was shining on her, warmth spreading over her tired, aching body.
Somehow, he swiftly took his shirt off, then he came back to her, nudging her knees open.
She knew, through the waves of tiredness from the longest day and the whiskey, she knew this was what it was supposed to be. She knelt up, easing herself on to him.
‘Alice …’ he said, his breath hot in her ear, his teeth on her skin. ‘Oh, Alice … Finally. You’ll tell me, won’t you …’
‘Tell you what?’
‘If you change your mind – if you don’t like it – tell me what you want,’ he said, his voice husky. She shook her head and closed her eyes.
‘I’m not going to change my mind …’ She trailed off, drinking him in.
She could barely speak, she wanted him so much.
He kneed her legs apart and pulled her up so they were facing each other, entwined, like crabs, bodies locked together.
His hand moved between her legs, and she could feel his hard cock pushing against her hand.
Alice looked down into his face, kissing him, his hair, his neck, stroking his shoulders.
They looked down to the space between them, and she edged on to him, so the tip of his penis was resting against her.
‘Okay,’ he whispered, kissing her ear, her jaw, her cheek, her lips, and as he did so he slowly thrust into her and she sank on to him, watching his dark, beautiful face, utterly in control, and then he started to move, and she rose and sank, moving against him too.
‘Alice – you –’ he said, and he smiled at her, and moved again.
His shoulders, his ears – he tasted of salt, and smoke, and sweat, thrusting into her and touching her, pushing and licking her, and at one point he kissed her and reached up to look at her and her heart pounded, and she raised herself up to hold his head, to kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.
They moved together like the waves of the shore, until she cried out, her voice husky with desire, and when she looked he was watching her.
He thrust, hard, into her, and cried out, and she kissed him again, and again, his dear, darling face, his soft, sweet, hard body, the certainty, the strangeness of it all.
The following morning, she woke by degrees, the heat outside part of her, the sheets cool against her naked body, tired and sore and happy.
Tom was still asleep, his hair tousled, his face gentle, relaxed. She reached over and touched his cheek. He turned to her, enclosing her in his space, his arm flung over her, edging on his side toward her, then he moaned softly.
‘Don’t …’ he said. ‘It’s the house in the trees. Don’t go. Don’t go.’
She stroked his face.
‘Don’t –’ he said, and then, when she reached down to touch his hardening cock, he woke up, opened his eyes. ‘Was I talking in my sleep?’ he said.
‘No,’ she lied.
‘That’s good,’ he said. He blinked, still half asleep. ‘Good morning.’
She could not stop herself, did not want to.
He leaned over and kissed her, the sheets soft against the warmth of their bodies.
‘Forget it,’ she said, letting the words slide out of her head as Tom slowly moved his hand down to between her legs, watching her, tracing patterns on her skin and deliberately making her come over and over again, his fingers touching her secret spot, telling her what she should do, what he was doing, how it should feel, asking her what she wanted, handling her alternately roughly and gently, and she realized that, as with her husband’s name, everything about her marriage had been fake.
They lay hooked together on their sides, and she could feel him growing hard again, so she rubbed him, lifting her leg over his, and he slid into her from behind, pushing into her, his hands on her hip and breast and Alice heard herself crying out, coming so loudly with pleasure, so viscerally, that it almost made her panic; and, for the first time since she had run away to be here, Alice understood what free love was really about, what sex was really for, how everyone should experience this, everyone deserved it, and how she hadn’t known the truth about any of the words she was saying in those months with Merlin, not until yesterday.
She lay on her side, Tom’s arm wrapped round her. She felt very calm. After a while he flung himself away on to his back. He reached for something in the air.
‘Don’t go,’ he said again.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, because she knew he was asleep again, and she smiled.
‘Celia – come back. Darling – please, just come back. Don’t go.’
Alice lay in bed, very still. He was quiet after that. She listened to the thud-thud-thud of the kid playing with the baseball, throwing it against the wall.
She slept again and woke an hour later. One of Ginger’s drawings was on the wall, a sketch of Merlin, fist raised, his mouth open.
Alice stared at it, trying to remember how she had come to be here.
Then the events of the past twenty-four hours washed over her: the long day, the long night, the ending.
She put her head on Tom’s chest. He was warm, and comforting.
He put his hand on her head, letting his fingers play gently but firmly in her hair.
‘Do you have to go to work today?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But, if you want, I can stay here.’
‘Oh! No, you don’t have to.’
‘Okay. Sure.’
‘If you want, you definitely should,’ said Alice, suddenly awkward.
She could feel his voice through his chest. ‘I don’t want to make things difficult with Merlin.’
She propped herself up on one elbow. ‘His name’s Jack, you know. He wasn’t ever a Merlin. His family is very grand; they live along from Valhalla. He has a pool.’
‘They always do,’ said Tom.
‘Tom –’ Alice said. She looked down into his eyes. If it was going to be like this, it had to be like this now. ‘We shouldn’t have –’
He sat up. ‘Oh. Perhaps we shouldn’t.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Alice said. ‘But I have to tell Merlin. It’s over.’
‘It’s over with him, you mean?’
She hesitated. ‘Yes.’
Someone outside was chanting:
‘HO HO HO CHI MINH / THE NLF IS GONNA WIN!’
‘If that’s what you want,’ said Tom.
‘I don’t know what I want,’ Alice said. She folded her arms under her breasts and stared at him. ‘Everything is crazy right now, don’t you think?’
Tom glanced at her breasts, then sat up and turned away, swinging his legs off the bed. He pulled on his jeans.
‘It is crazy.’ He swallowed, then he ran his hands through his hair and said shortly, ‘Listen, Alice – thank you. For yesterday.’
‘I’m really glad,’ she said. She put her hand on his back.
He swivelled round and kissed her, pushing her back on the bed, his skin on hers, the rough metal and denim of his jeans against her soft stomach.
He held her face between his hands and kissed her again, hard.
When they broke off, she said, ‘I hope you think it was worth it.’
‘What was worth it?’ he said. His breath was soft, sour-sweet on her face. He sat up.
‘The trip. Meeting Teddy – meeting your mother,’ Alice said. ‘What else?’
‘Of course it was. I still can’t quite believe any of it. I need to think,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she said, and she pulled on a grimy T-shirt of Ginger’s over her head. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Now, or in general?’
‘Whichever you want,’ she said, and she ran her hands over his shoulders.
‘We seem to be talking at cross purposes,’ he said gently, but it made her want to cry. ‘What are you going to do next? When the summer’s over?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alice said. She didn’t want to mention her plans with Dolores. She wasn’t sure why. ‘I can’t stay in New York. I need to get away from here,’ she said, her fingers entwined with his.
‘You’re still only eighteen,’ he said.
‘I turned nineteen a few days ago.’ She hated her birthday, because of what had happened. ‘I don’t celebrate it.’
‘Okay. I mean you have so much time, Allie. So do I. You can do anything. You could still go to college. You should go travelling. Where would you go?’
‘I was talking about it with Dolores, you know, my best friend back home.’ She shrugged, feeling his fingers stroking her shoulder, her backbone, and his touch made it feel as though her skin was melting, as though the air between them was electric, magic, full of power. It was extraordinary, and it was awful.
Something made her say, ‘Tom. Would it be crazy, do you think, if I went to Sevenstones? You mentioned it yesterday. I’ve always wanted to go to England – and my dad did too – I think he’d have loved for me to go there.’