Sexy Beast

Even as a small girl I had picked up her sense of unease and dread, reverberating on a level beyond language, beyond what is cognitive. I didn’t even need to understand her to feel it.

‘What do you mean?’ my ma had asked.

But she would say no more.

I stumble down the stairs and find my purse. I root around in it with trembling hands and find my mobile phone. Taking a deep breath, I call my mother.

‘Ma,’ I say into the phone. It is shocking how level and even I manage to keep my voice. A few hours ago, I wouldn’t have understood how anyone could appear unmoved when they are dying inside. Now I know. The cold, hard part of me has detached itself enough to be able to function without the rest of me. Appearing unmoved is the price you pay for being able to speak at all.

‘Ah, I was just about to call you,’ my mother says cheerfully.

‘Why?’

‘I’m in a shop and I’ve seen the cutest little coats you’ve ever seen. I’m getting a pink one for our Liliana. Shall I get a blue one for Tommy as well?’

It is like a body blow. The only way to deal with it is talk about something crazy. ‘Why are you calling him Tommy, Ma?’

‘BJ told me that both of you had decided on that name.’

An involuntary smile escapes my stiff features. Oh, BJ. How sly you are.

‘Have you changed your mind then?’ my mother asks.

‘No. No, we haven’t. We are going with Tommy. Yeah, get the blue coat for him,’ I tell her.

‘All right, I will. What did you call me for?’

‘I wanted the phone number of that tarot card reader you always go to. I’ve forgotten her name.’

‘Queenie, you mean?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

‘I’ll text her number to you. Do you want to go and see her then?’

‘Yes.’

‘We can go together if you want.’

‘No, Ma. I was planning on seeing her today.’

‘Is anything wrong?’

‘No. Nothing is wrong. Just wanted to ask her something.’

‘She should be free now. She doesn’t work on Mondays. Too quiet on the pier. I’ll text her number to you now. Speak to you later tonight.’

‘Thanks, Ma.’

The text comes through and I call Queenie and make an appointment to see her in an hour and a half. Then I send BJ a text message.

Got 2 run an errand.

Will go directly 2 Silver

Lee after that. Call u

when I get there. xx

I switch off my mobile, input Queenie’s address into my GPS, and drive my car to her trailer park. I’m there in less than an hour. I get out of the car and begin to walk.

The body remembers what the mind will not. My legs move confidently forward. My muscles and sinew know exactly where she lives. They always knew that one day I would be returning again to see the woman who could look into the future. She opens the door in her flowery housecoat. She is so small and shrunken. She is nothing like I remember.

‘Poor child. So soon you have been asked for your sacrifice,’ she says sadly.

My chin begins to tremble.

She steps aside and I enter her trailer. She bids me to sit.

‘What do you want of me?’ she asks.

‘Read my cards.’

THIRTY-THREE

Layla

Frogs in my belly devour what is bad.

Frogs in my belly show the evil the way out!

- Old gypsy witches’ chant

By the time I arrive at Silver Lee, BJ’s car is already parked in the forecourt. He comes tearing out to meet me, his hair tousled as if he has been running his hands through it and his eyes stormy with worry.

‘Where have you been?’ he demands.

I should feel guilty but I don’t. The cold, hard part of me is still in charge. ‘I went to see a friend of my mother.’

He stares at me in disbelief. ‘What the fuck, Layla? I’ve been so worried. You switched off your phone. I didn’t know how to reach you.’

‘I’m sorry. I just needed a bit of time to think.’

‘We need to talk.’

I put my hand out, the palm facing him. ‘Not today.’

He opens his mouth to object and I say, ‘Please, BJ. Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

He looks at me warily. ‘We have to talk. It’s not going to go away, Layla.’

‘One more day is not going to a make a difference,’ I cry.

‘All right. All right. Tomorrow. But it cannot be any later than tomorrow.’

‘Thank you, BJ.’ I look down at myself. ‘I feel a bit grubby. I think I’ll just have a shower first.’

He looks at me intently, but I ignore the look, I walk up to him and standing on tiptoes kiss him gently on the mouth before I go into the house. He stands where I have left him, staring after me with confusion.

‘Hello, Layla,’ Marcel calls cheerfully from the kitchen.

‘Hey, Marcel,’ I greet and go up the stairs.

I shower quickly, dress, and go downstairs. BJ is standing with his back to me looking out of the open windows. In one hand he is holding a glass of something amber, in the other a cigarette. An open bottle of Scotch is standing on the table. Its top is carelessly tossed on the table. I am wearing flat, soft-soled slippers and he has not heard me come down. For a moment I watch him. He’s totally lost in thought, his powerful shoulders hunched forward and tense.

‘I’ve never seen you drink Scotch before.’

He whirls around, his eyes narrowed, and running over me like water. ‘Yeah, I needed something for my nerves.’ He takes a long drag of his cigarette and kills it in the ashtray sitting on the window ledge. He straightens and looks at me. ‘Do you want a glass of something?’ he asks slowly.

I blink. There is a sharp pain in my heart. I haven’t even had a sip of anything alcoholic since I found out I was pregnant and he has never offered before today.

We stare at each other.

‘I’ll have a glass of white wine,’ I say softly.

He goes to the bar, selects a bottle from the fridge and pours me a glass.

I take it. Our hands touch, a spark runs through me.

Watching him over the rim of the wineglass, I take a sip. It feels cold on my tongue, but it doesn’t taste too good. Perhaps I am not in the mood for it.

He picks up his own glass, taking a swallow, and looks at me with deliberately blank eyes. ‘Want to tell me what you did this afternoon?’

I sit down on the sofa behind me. ‘I went to see my mother’s tarot reader.’

‘Right,’ he says carefully. ‘What did she tell you?’

‘Not much. Nothing that would help, anyway.’ I stare down at the floor

‘We’ll have other children, Layla. I promise.’

My head shoots up and my eyes are stern. ‘I don’t want to discuss it today. Please, BJ.’

‘Fine.’ There is a note of frustration in his voice.

I put my glass of wine down on the coffee table and clasp my hands.

‘Shall we go for a walk?’ BJ asks.

‘Yes, let’s.’

We don’t walk far. Both of us turning back as soon as we reach the end of the lane that leads into the forest. When we come back, dinner is ready and we eat it—well, push it around our plates—on the roof terrace in strained silence. Afterwards, we go upstairs, fuck like animals, and fall asleep entwined in each other’s arms.

The last thing I hear is his voice whispering in my ear, ‘God, if anything ever happened to you.’

I wake up in the early hours of the morning. One of the windows is open and a light breeze is coming in. Very quietly I get out of bed, slipping my nightgown over my head as I head for the nursery. The curtains are open and it’s bathed in moonlight. I open one of the tall windows and sit on the deep ledge with my legs dangling out. Down below the rose bushes are in full bloom. Their heads are so big they look like cabbages in the dark

. In the distance the enormous weeping willow is very still. Its sad branches trailing on the ground.

I hear a noise behind me. I don’t turn around.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he asks.

I shake my head. He comes and stands behind me and I feel the heat from his body.