Читать книгу Nikki Gemmell’s Threesome: The Bride Stripped Bare, With the Body, I Take You - Nikki Gemmell - Страница 68

you ought never to keep anything whatever under a bed

Only Martha and you are left at the bar, for the Library men have all gone home to their families, and after an awkward pause Martha asks if you’ve had a shag lately and you laugh and say no, not for ages, you’ve forgotten how to do it, it’s been so long. Martha tells you she’s slept on the couch for the last six years while her husband’s in the bedroom, it’s all very English, she tells you. We’re high Catholic, we won’t split. You laugh from deep in your belly, suddenly liking this woman very much. How seductive is honesty. You ask her, casually, about Gabriel, what she knows about him, you can’t work him out. She looks at you sharply. Ah, Gabriel, she says, Gabriel, and she tells you she has a theory and leans close.

I don’t think he’s had much practice with women. He’s probably only had one or two girlfriends in his life. I think he needs a bit of help.

What?

It’s kind of exciting, don’t you think?

God, I don’t know, and you’re knuckling your hands into your temples, you’re thinking of the letter and the suits and the kind of man who wouldn’t let a woman drive a car if he’s in it, perhaps.

He’s so…odd, Martha says. I mean, gorgeously so, but you know. There’s something of the hermit about him, don’t you reckon, the way he disappears for months on end and then suddenly turns up. God knows what he really does, or how he ever makes a buck. He doesn’t open up to any of us. It’s all just a bit strange.

You rub the line between your brow, trying to knead it out, and Martha laughs that everything’s speculation, of course, and there’s even vague talk of a girlfriend, once, who broke his heart but there’s been no sighting of anyone since.

You know nothing of him. You’ve never even been to his flat. There’s so much you’ve never asked. Deliberately, because you don’t want to hear about a girlfriend in the wings, or a wife. It’s better if you don’t know, so that the spell is never broken; you’re not ready for that.

But you feel a fatigue, now, at living within the web of your own tightly woven imaginings. Since a real man stumbled into it and began plucking at the silk.