Killing Me Softly

‘She thought she was talking to a reporter. She thought she was making a brave declaration on behalf of rape victims and instead she was satisfying your nosiness about what your hubby’ – this last uttered with bitter contempt – ‘got up to with his little cock before you were married.’

‘I’m not trying to defend myself.’

Joanna took a deep drag on her cigarette. ‘You gave her a false name?’

‘I told her my name was Sylvie Bushnell.’

‘Sylvie Bushnell? Where did you get that from? You…’ But then it was all too much for her. Joanna started giggling, then laughed uncontrollably. She put her head down on the table and banged her forehead lightly twice. She took another drag and started coughing and laughing at the same time. Finally she controlled herself. ‘You’ve certainly got a taste for the jugular. You should be doing my job. I need some coffee. You want some?’

I nodded and she boiled some water and spooned the ground beans into a cafetiere as we talked.

‘So what did she tell you?’

I gave a summary of what Michelle had said.

‘Hmm,’ said Joanna. She didn’t seem especially disconcerted. She poured two mugs of coffee and sat back down opposite me at her kitchen table. ‘So what do you feel after your escapade?’

I took a sip of coffee. ‘I’m still trying to sort it out in my mind. Rocked. That’s one of the things I feel.’

Joanna looked sceptical. ‘Really?’

‘Of course.’

She lit another cigarette. ‘Is it any different from what you read in the paper? Based on what you told me, I would still acquit Adam. I’m amazed it ever came to court.’

‘I don’t care about the legal technicalities, Joanna. All I care is what happened. What may have happened.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Alice, we’re grown-ups.’ She topped up her coffee. ‘Look, I don’t think of myself as an especially promiscuous person. Well, nobody does, do they? But I’ve had sex with men to make them go away, or because they went on and on about it. I’ve had sex with people while drunk who I wouldn’t have had sex with sober. I’ve done it not really wanting to, and I’ve regretted it the next morning, or ten minutes later. Once or twice I’ve humiliated myself so that I felt sick with it. Haven’t you?’

‘On occasion.’

‘All I’m saying is that most of us have gone out into that grey area and played around with what we really want to do. I mean, it’s difficult, but all I’m saying is that it’s not like the man who climbs through your window with a mask and a knife.’

‘I’m sorry, Joanna, I’m not comfortable with that.’

‘You’re not supposed to be comfortable with it. That’s the point. Look, I don’t know about you and Adam. How did you meet?’

‘Well, let’s just say it wasn’t exactly having tea with the vicar and all very Jane Austen.’

‘Quite. When I met Adam he was rude to me, prickly, difficult. I suspect his attitude to me was a combination of being uninterested, suspicious and contemptuous and I felt turned on by him. The man is sexy, right?’ There was a silence I made no attempt to fill.

‘Well, he is, isn’t he?’

‘He’s my husband,’ I said primly.

‘For Christ’s sake, Alice, don’t play Pollyanna with me. The man is an epic in himself. He single-handedly saved the lives of almost everybody in that expedition. Klaus was telling me about his life. He walked out of Eton when he was sixteen and made his way to the Alps. He bummed around there for a couple of years before finding his way out to the Himalayas where he spent years trekking and climbing. How dare you find this man before me?’

‘I know all this, Joanna. It’s a shock finding this other side to him.’

‘What other side?’

‘That he can be violent, dangerous.’

‘Has he been violent to you?’

‘Well… you know.’ I gave a shrug.

‘Oh, you mean in nice ways.’

‘I don’t know if nice is the right word.’

‘Mm,’ said Joanna approvingly, almost carnivorously. ‘You have got a problem, Alice.’

‘Have I?’

‘You’ve fallen in love with a hero, an extraordinary man who’s not like anybody I’ve ever heard of. He’s strange and unpredictable and I think that sometimes you wish he was like a solicitor coming home at six thirty for dinner and a cuddle and the missionary position once a week. What was your last relationship?’

‘I left somebody for Adam.’

‘What was he like?’

‘He was nice. But not like that solicitor you’re talking about. He was good fun, considerate, we were friends, shared the same interests, we had a good time together. Sex was good.’

Joanna leaned across the table and looked at me closely. ‘Miss him?’

‘It’s all so different with Adam. We don’t 'do things together', the way I used to with other boyfriends. We’re never just casually, easily, together, the way I was with Jake. It’s all so… so intense, so tiring in a way. And sex – well, sure it’s great, but it’s also disturbing. Troubling. I don’t know the rules any more.’

‘Do you miss Jake?’ Joanna asked again.

It was a question I had never asked myself. I had virtually never had time to ask myself.

‘Not for a single second,’ I heard myself say.

Twenty-three

It was the middle of March, nearly the beginning of British Summer Time again. There were crocuses and daffodils in all the parks, brighter faces on the street; the sun rose higher each day. Joanna Noble was right. I would never know what happened in the past. Everyone has their secrets and their betrayals. No one’s life is untouched by shame. Best keep dark things in the dark, where they can heal and fade. Best put away the torments of jealousy and paranoid curiosity.

I knew that Adam and I could not spend the rest of our lives together by shutting out the world and exploring each other’s bodies in strange, darkened rooms. We had to let the world in a bit. All the friends we had ignored, relatives we had abandoned, duties we had put aside, movies we hadn’t seen, papers we had failed to read. We had to act a bit more like normal people. So I went out and bought some new clothes. I went to the supermarket and bought ordinary kinds of food: eggs, cheese, flour, things like that. I made arrangements, as I had in my previous life.

‘I’m going to a film with Pauline tomorrow,’ I said to Adam, when he came in.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Why?’

‘I need to see some friends. And I thought we could invite people round for a meal here on Saturday.’

He looked at me inquiringly.

‘I thought I’d ask Sylvie and Clive,’ I persevered. ‘And what about having Klaus here, or Daniel, and maybe Deborah? Or whoever you want.’

‘Sylvie and Clive and Klaus and Daniel and Deborah? Here?’

‘Is that strange?’