Twenty four
Blake has a business dinner that he expects to run late, so Billie and I are going to a wine bar that has just opened in Seymour Place. I wash my hair and dress in a pair of tight jeans and the top that Fleur had called basic even though it is rather grand. It has lace and pearl buttons down the front. Tom is on holiday and Blake has left strict instructions for me to take a taxi to and fro. I go to visit my mother first.
The pouch with her supply of antineoplastons is strapped around her waist, but she looks well. She is steadily gaining weight, there is color again in her cheeks, and she seems in good spirits.
‘My, don’t you look nice,’ she says, bustling me into the kitchen. She puts a skillet on the stove. ‘You can’t drink on an empty stomach. We are having grilled chicken and salad.’
She sprinkles nuts on a bowl of salad.
We sit to eat and it is like old times. Afterwards, she refuses all offers of help with the dishes and shoos me away. ‘Go. Go and have a good time, you. Call me in the morning.’
‘OK, OK,’ I say laughing as I am bodily pushed out of her door.
At Billie’s, I am ordered to lose the lace top and slip into one of Billie’s skinny tops. I have to admit the red top looks hip and a whole lot sexier.
The taxi drops us outside the entrance of Fellini’s. We open the wooden door and enter the dimly-lit interior. It is all green walls, chrome fittings and framed black and white photos of movie stars from the forties and fifties. The clientele is quite a mixed bag, but seems to be mostly office folk.
We find a table and I buy the first round. When it is Billie’s turn, she goes up to the bar, and a guy sidles up to the half-circle seat that I am sitting on. He is wearing a suit and must be in his mid or late twenties. He smiles at me. Friendly face. I will also remember later that he looked clean and trustworthy. There is nothing about him to suggest otherwise
‘Hello, doll,’ he says. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’
‘Thanks, but my friend’s gone to get me one.’
‘Mind if I join you girls?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ interrupts Billie rudely. She is standing behind me and actually glowering at the man. She looks quite tough and fierce.
‘No problem,’ he says immediately, and with a wink to me, gets up and goes back to join his friends, who are gathered at the bar. He says something to them and they slap him on the back and laugh uproariously. For some reason, their laughter disturbs me and makes me think it is somehow connected to me. But Billie is saying something and I turn my head to listen.
Blake Law Barrington
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and instantly perceive that it is from Lana. Why, I cannot say, for she has never called me before. I take my phone out of my pocket and look at the screen. Her number flashes. I excuse myself, walk away from the table, and lay my phone to my ear.
‘Hi,’ says a voice I do not recognize.
‘Yes,’ I reply, my voice is strangely abrupt. Some part of my brain registers surprise at the state of my voice.
‘This is Billie, Lana’s friend. Don’t panic, but some wanker has slipped a roach into her drink, and she’s gone down.’
Her accent is hard for me to understand, and I have never heard the term roach, but I guess instantly that Billie must be referring to a date rape drug. ‘Gone down?’ I repeat.
‘Look, I’ve had to leave her at the table with one of the bar staff to come outside and call you, so could you hurry here, please?’
‘Where are you?’
She gives me the address.
Without going back to the table to make my apologies, I rush out of the restaurant and drive like a mad man through speed cameras. I double park outside the entrance of Loren, and bound into the crowded bar. I stand at the entrance and let my eyes scan the room. A young girl with extremely white hair is waving at me. Lana is slumped against her and her head is lolling on the girl’s left shoulder.
As soon as I reach them she stands up and tries to keep Lana up with her hand, but Lana flops over it.
‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ Billie says. ‘Almost all my friends have had it slipped into their drink before, and we’ve all survived.’ She jerks her eyes towards a group of men. ‘I think it’s them over there, but over my dead body will they be taking this girl home with them.’
I glance over at the men. Six lads. Youngish. Their idea of fun. As soon as they sense my eyes on them, they quickly turn away and I experience a fury that I have never known. The urge to go over and punch their smirking faces burns my guts. I turn towards them, raging uncontrollably. A hand on my arm stops me. I look at it. The nails are painted to look like slices of watermelon. The sight has a strange effect on me. I lose the edge of my anger.
I drag my eye upwards.
‘If you prop her up on one side, we can walk her out,’ she urges. Her voice is surprisingly strong and purposeful. I had dismissed her, the spiders and the boiled-egg white hair, but she is more. No wonder Lana held her in such high regard.
‘No need,’ I say, and scoop Lana up easily.
‘Oh!’ Billie exclaims. Turning around she aggressively flicks her middle finger at the group of guys who have turned to watch, and follows me out of the restaurant. Outside, Billie opens the passenger door and I deposit Lana into the seat. I close the door and turn to face her.
‘Thank you for calling me.’
She shrugs. ‘No problem. Thanks for coming. Couldn’t take her home. Her mum…you know how it is?’
I nod. ‘How will you get home?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll just hop on a bus.’
That makes me frown. ‘Is that safe at this time of the night?’
Her eyes widen. Suddenly she seems so much younger. ‘It’s only ten o’clock, Mr. Barrington.’
I take my wallet out of my pocket, pull two fifties out, and hold them out to her. ‘Here, take a cab.’
‘Uh…taxis don’t cost that much, Mr. Barrington.’
‘Call me Blake, and please, don’t argue with me,’ I say impatiently.
She reaches out and takes the money, then shifts from one foot to another. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks. Tomorrow will be the killer. She’ll think she’s dying, but she’ll be OK. Give her lots of water to drink.’
‘Thanks again.’
‘Oh, and if you want to do anything kinky to her now’s the time. She won’t remember a thing in the morning.’
For a moment I stare at her shocked, and then I realize that it is her attempt at a joke. I shake my head. Strange girl. She pulls Lana’s phone out of her pocket. ‘Here’s her phone. She’ll need to call her mum before twelve or there’ll be trouble.’
I take it distractedly. ‘OK, I’ll make sure she does.’ I walk over to the driver’s side of the car and get in.
Billie Black
I watch his car roar powerfully into life, pick up great speed almost immediately, and take the corner at an alarming speed. Then I stuff the money into the back pocket of my black jeans and casually amble over to the bus stop. At the bus stop I sit on a cold plastic chair and replay the moment when Blake picked Lana up.
I will never have that, but instead of that usual tinge of envy because someone else has more than me, my little heart is soaring for Lana.
Yay! Banker boy cared.
Blake Law Barrington
Lana moans and I take my eyes off the road to briefly look at her.
‘Ooh uuugggg why uuuuuuggggg,’ she says, and covering her face with her hand, mumbles unintelligently. I don’t try to talk to her. When I reach the apartment block, I take my keycard from the dashboard and go out to Lana’s side. The night porter’s eyes are round with curiosity when I carry Lana through reception towards the lift. He stands up, but I shake my head, and he sits down again. I elbow the lift button and it opens almost immediately. I slot in my card and we are transported upwards. The movement of the elevator makes Lana stir in my arms.
‘Sorry, Mummy,’ she says. ‘Oh it’s you’… more gibberish…then clearly, ‘where’s Mum?’
‘She’s home safe.’
But she appears not to hear, and seems to be trapped in some nightmare of her own. ‘Don’t die, Mummy. You promised to come to my wedding.’
I watch her with a frown.
‘You said you would.’ She begins to cry. ‘Mum, it’s cold. I’m so cold.’
I curse. The lift door opens and I carry her into the apartment and deposit her on the bed.
She grasps my arm and looks into my eyes, frowns, and does not seem to recognize me. ‘Where’s my mother?’ She shivers.
I cover her. ‘Shhh…’
‘I’ll tell you now. You won’t break me, Barrington,’ she slurs and turns on her side. ‘I’ll tell Jack what you did. He’ll sort you out. Jaaaaccccckk,’ she wails.
It makes the hair on my neck stand to see her this way, but it is only when she starts talking gobbledygook in earnest that I get worried. I go into the kitchen and phone my doctor.
After a few minutes I end the call and stare at the granite top. I am simmering with anger—with her, for being so careless, so naïve, and with those pigs that thought they could drug a girl and rape her. My hands clench. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. They didn’t get her. They didn’t get her. My hands unclench. I take another full breath. It is not her fault. She is as innocent as a child. Grimly, I go to sit by the bedside and listen to her ramblings. In all of them, I am the enemy. The one who wants to use her for sex.
I clasp my hands tightly and remain silent.
The porter brings the doctor up. Dr. Faulks is very quick with his analysis. There is nothing much to do. Wait it out. Fluids are the key. Tomorrow will be bad. She will have memory lapses, most likely won’t remember a thing.
‘Oh, plastic sheets might be a good idea. Sometime incontinence can occur.’
After the doctor is gone, I undress her.
She sighs elaborately. ‘Oh! It’s you again.’ She seems confused, sad.
I pull the duvet over her and she pushes it away. ‘I’m hot. Really hot. I thought you wanted to fuck me, anyway.’ She grabs my hand and kisses it. ‘Thank you. Thank you for what you did for my mother.’ Then she moans and falls into a stupor. She sleeps for half an hour and wakes up retching. I bring a large salad bowl that I find in the kitchen, but it is only dry heaving.
I lay a cold towel on her forehead. Her fingers come up to push it away. She pulls my face towards her. Her breath smells strange and stale, but I don’t care, I kiss her back.
Suddenly she turns away and begins to cry.
For hours I sit beside her as she goes from comatose to babbling idiot to crazed sex fiend, all the time wondering when it will be over. Finally, when the sky is beginning to lighten, purely from exhaustion she falls into a restless sleep.
I text Laura to reschedule my morning appointments and get into bed beside her. I put my arm around her narrow waist and close my eyes with relief that her suffering is over for the night, and hope that she won’t remember this long and terrible night. My nose hovers over the crook of her neck and finds the faint but familiar scent of her perfume.
I register in my tense body a sense of victory that they did not get her, and then, a strong sense of possession. I tighten my hold on her.
She belongs to me until I say otherwise.