The safe house

colourful. You could almost mistake them for the ones you get in plastic beakers at M&S. I talked a bit about the day’s sailing. Finn asked a couple of questions. Danny said almost nothing at all. Afterwards, we took mugs of coffee back to the living room where the fire had burned down to its embers. Danny had yet another bottle of beer. I put some small pieces of firewood on the embers and blew and blew until there were flames once more. The wind was rattling the window frames and blowing drops of rain against the glass.

‘It’s the sort of night when it feels wonderful to be in front of a fire,’ I said.

‘Stop that crap, Sam,’ said Danny.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re talking like a fucking advertisement for something.’

He walked over to the window.

‘This isn’t you, Sam. What are you doing here? There’s just trees out there and mud and marsh and rain and then the sea. Real people can’t live here, only dressed-up oafs who go hunting.’

‘Stop it, Danny,’ I said, with a glance across at a shocked Finn.

‘Why? What do you think about it, Finn? Do you like living out here.’

Finn looked panic-stricken.

‘I don’t know,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ve just got some clearing up to do. In the kitchen.’

She hurried from the room and I turned to Danny in a rage.

‘You fucking buffoon,’ I hissed. ‘What are you playing at?’

He shrugged.

‘The countryside pisses me off. This whole thing pisses me off.’

‘How could you talk like that in front of Finn? How could you? What’s going on? Do you resent Finn, or Michael? Are you jealous?’

Danny raised the bottle and drained it.

‘I’m off to bed,’ he said and left the room.

I leafed through a magazine for a few minutes until Finn joined me.

‘I apologize,’ I said. ‘Danny can be strange.’

‘That’s all right,’ Finn said. ‘I like Danny. I like the way he can just say anything. I like his difficulty. I’ve always gone for that sort of grim man.’

‘I haven’t.’

Finn smiled and sat next to me on the rug in front of the fire. She pressed close. I could smell her soft, warm skin.

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ I asked.

‘Do you know what I hate about all of this, what’s happened to me?’

‘What?’

‘There’s an idea that suffering has made me this delicate, saintly creature and everybody gets worried if they say the wrong thing when I’m in earshot. No, I didn’t “have a boyfriend”. When I was fat no one was interested in me, of course, and I guess I wasn’t interested either. Or I was terrified. Maybe that’s what being fat was partly about for me. After I lost all that weight but wasn’t like a bicycle frame either, I felt completely different, and then I had sex with boys sometimes. Especially in South America; it was part of the adventure. Well –’ she gave a harsh, unlikely chuckle – ‘Mummy always said I was too young to get tied down. Does it shock you?’

Well, yes.

‘No, of course not. I’m afraid that I, and all of this,’ I gestured at our surroundings, ‘must seem a bit staid to you.’

‘Oh, no, Sam.’ Finn turned to face me. She stroked my cheek and kissed it, very softly. I wanted to draw back, but forced myself not to. ‘I don’t think you’re staid.’ She sat back. ‘I used to be – for God’s sake, I am – someone who acts on impulse. When Danny was talking about the countryside I sort of agreed with him. But at the same time, for me it’s not boring. I have this idea in my head that won’t go away. There are people out there in the dark who put tape round my face and cut my throat and they would do it again if they had the chance.’

‘Don’t, Finn.’

‘But it’s more than that, Sam. I have this image playing over and over in my head. I don’t know whether it’s a dream. I imagine this house in the middle of the night. Torchlight outside, a window sliding up. A creaking on the stairs. I wake up with masking tape over my mouth, a blade at my throat. Then they move to your room. Then to Elsie’s…’

‘Finn, stop that,’ I was almost shouting. ‘You mustn’t say that. You have no right to say that.’

I felt a sour taste in the back of my throat. I wanted to be sick.

‘Whose feelings are you protecting?’ Finn asked. ‘Mine or yours?’

‘Mine, for once.’

‘So you know how it feels.’

I felt cross.

‘I knew how it felt already, Finn. I knew. It was wrong of you to say that about Elsie. Don’t bring my daughter into this.’

‘I’m desperate for them to be caught, Sam.’

There was something eerily theatrical about all of this.

‘We all want that.’

‘I want to help. I’ve been thinking and thinking, trying to remember something, anything that could help the police. A smell maybe, a voice. I don’t know.’

My mind was clouded by it all, by the wine, the warmth of the fire, the lateness of the hour. I tried to make myself think clearly. Was she trying to tell me something?

‘Finn, is there something you’re holding back, something you haven’t told the police?’

‘I don’t think so. At least…’

‘Was there anything else that happened to you during the assault? Have you told the police everything?’

‘Why should there be anything? I wish there was. Maybe there’s something I’m not facing up to. Perhaps I’m being cowardly. Sam, I want to help. Can you do anything for me?’

She put her arms around me and held me, so close that I could feel her heart beating. She was hugging me desperately. This was creepy, all wrong, as if I were being seduced by somebody who knew I couldn’t reject them. I put my arms around her like a mother comforting a child, but at the same time I was watching myself putting my arms around her, wondering what I was doing. I was dubious about my role as Finn’s doctor, dubious about my role as Finn’s friend, and now she was expecting me to become some sort of psychological detective, some sort of soul mate.

‘Sam, Sam,’ she moaned. ‘I feel so lonely and helpless.’ If this was a crisis, I wished I felt a bit more in control of it, less manipulated.

‘Stop this and calm down. Stop!’ I pushed her away. Her eyes were puffy and wet, she was panting. ‘Listen to me. We’re here to support you. You are protected. No harm will come to you. All right? Secondly, it is entirely possible that there could be a degree of memory loss associated with emotional and physical trauma and it is remediable. But now, late at night, when we’re tired and overwrought, is not the time to talk about it. Things can be done, but I doubt whether I would be the right person to do them. For a variety of reasons. Above all, there are kinds of therapeutic help that you can’t get from me and you can’t get in this environment. We have to think about that. I regard you… That’s too clinical. You are a dear friend. But we have to think about things. But not now. Not even tomorrow. Now go to bed.’

‘Yes, Sam,’ she said in a frail, chastened voice.

‘Now,’ I said.

She nodded and took a final sip of her coffee and left the room without a further word being exchanged. When she was gone I gave a great sigh. What had I brought into my house? And now Elsie adored Finn more than anybody else in the world. What was I doing to everybody?

I went upstairs. I let my clothes fall and got between the sheets in my dark bedroom and felt the warmth of Danny’s body. I ran my hands over him, under, over, between. I needed him badly. He turned and clutched me fiercely. He kissed me hard, his teeth nipping at my lips. I felt his hands rough on my body. I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from screaming with a pleasure that was almost fear. He pinned my arms above my head with one