‘It must have been very hard on you,’ I said, stating the fucking obvious.
‘It was. I was suddenly on my own for the first time in a long time, and what made it worse was that without Steve I couldn’t pay the rent on the flat, so I had to move out of there too, and that part really hurt. I’d worked so hard to make it a home, spent hours and hours getting it just right, and in the end it was all for nothing.
‘So, there I was, broke, single, and depressed. Even the job didn’t seem to be going right. I was moving up the ladder, but not as fast as I’d have liked, and the work was providing a lot of frustrations. Kids who you put so much time into, who you really thought were going to make it, ended up overdosing on smack and barbiturates, or turning their back on you, and all that bureaucratic interfering. It was a real low point in my life, probably the lowest. At one time it even crossed my mind to, you know…’ She trailed off.
‘But eventually I pulled myself together and life went on. But I was a changed person, Dennis. I lost a lot of my idealism, I was harder, more focused. Then, one day, I read an article about a housewife who worked in the days as a part-time call girl. She didn’t do it for the money. I think she was more interested in the adventure, and maybe the sex, but she seemed happy with the way it worked out and at the time money for me was still very, very tight, so I thought, I could do that. I’m attractive, I’m quite good company. And I’m certainly lonely enough to appreciate the attention, even if it was from people I wouldn’t normally have associated with. So I decided to give it a go.’
‘You’ve been doing it for a while, then?’
‘I suppose I have. I’ve never really thought about it. It’s a part of my life now.’
‘I still can’t believe it,’ I said, taking a sip of the brandy. ‘When I first met you I’d never have guessed that, you know, you were involved in this sort of thing. I’m not condemning it. It’s just a bit of a shock.’
Carla shrugged.
‘And do you enjoy it?’
She appeared to think about it for a moment. ‘Sometimes. Not all the time. Maybe not even much of the time. But sometimes. So, how about you? Did you always want to be a copper, or did you just fall into it?’
I took a long drag on my cigarette. ‘I think I always wanted to be one. You know, when I was growing up, I had this real sense of justice. I hated bullies, and I hated it when people did something bad and got away with it. I thought it would be really good to do a job where you could stop that sort of thing from happening, and when it had already happened you could punish the perpetrators. I also thought it would be a bit of an adventure.’
‘And has it been?’
I took a couple of seconds to answer. ‘Well, I suppose it’s had its moments, but, to be honest with you, they’ve been pretty few and far between. A lot of the time it’s just endless paperwork and dealing with people who live shitty lives and do all these shitty things to each other for the most mundane reasons. And, you know, you can never seem to stop them.’
‘That’s human nature, Dennis. It’s what a lot of people are like. They grow up without values, alienated from the society they live in. You can’t just turn them into model citizens at the drop of a hat.’
‘But everyone’s taught right from wrong. Whether it’s in the media, at school … It’s just a lot of them aren’t interested. They have no fear of doing wrong; that’s the problem. I guess it’s because they have no respect for us, the people who are meant to be stopping them. You should hear the shit we put up with every day.’
She smiled. ‘It’s probably exactly the same as the shit we put up with every day.’
‘Why do we do it, eh?’
‘Because we care,’ she said, and I suppose that was as good a reason as any. Although the problem I had was that I’d stopped caring a long time ago, and perhaps, in a way, so had she.
I finished my brandy and she refilled the glasses. When they were full, she picked hers up and raised it for a toast.
‘To the carers,’ she said.
‘To the carers,’ I intoned.
We clinked glasses, and once again I got a smell of that wonderful perfume. I was feeling relaxed now, at ease with the world; the drink and the company removing the heavy loads of worry from my shoulders.
We talked for a long time. An hour … two hours … maybe more, I can’t honestly remember. Pretty much a bottle of brandy’s worth. Not really about anything in particular. Just things.
At some point I began stroking her smooth bare feet while we chatted, my head spinning with booze and lust and confidence as my words tumbled out. Her toes were painted a beautiful plum colour and I bent down to kiss them one by one, taking them into my mouth, revelling in the intimacy of the contact. She moaned faintly, and I knew then that I’d conquered her. That this was it. That I was going to make love to the woman I’d fantasized about these past few nights, who I’d thought was far too good for me, but who had now shown her true, vulnerable colours, and who I wanted with a desperation that even now
