Faithless (29 page)

             
"It's all high quality authentic local produce – or that's what it said on the menu. Firstly I've ordered
Hønsekødssuppe
which is chicken soup with meatballs. And then for the main course some kind of charred herring. Exactly the same as me."

             
"Sounds ok. Though it could have gone drastically wrong."

             
"How would that be?"

             
"Because I'm not exactly the same as you."

             
"I'd noticed that, darling," she said.

They walked through into the dining room. The waiter pulled out Ailsa's chair and she gave him a beaming smile. "Before you go, could I possibly have another G&T?" The waiter nodded.

"Your third?" said John.

She narrowed her eyes. "There's no point you looking so critically at me. I can handle my drink."

He shrugged. "None of
my business."

"So, where did you go today?" she asked.

"Just wandered around."

"You were gone a long time."

"Were you counting the hours?"

"Sort of. I was reading too. I've finished my book."

"Do you get bored easily?"

"Yes, but don't change the subject. W
hat did you buy her?"

"A necklace."

"Can I see it?"

"It's in my room. I'm not going to get it."

"Oh."  

The drink arrived and shortly after the soup. As they were in a public dining room, they avoided talking about work. Ailsa told him she was thinking of
joining a ladies' cricket team.

"They'll all be lesbians," he said.

"Don't be judgemental. Anyway, I might like that for all you know."

"You might."

They finished their meal and retired with a liqueur to the lounge. She had a Cointreau and he had a malt whisky. Outside the night had fallen over Copenhagen. Ailsa was slightly drunk.

"Looking forward to going home tomorrow?" he asked.

"Not really. Blood
y work. Bloody husband."

"I presumed you liked your work."

"Did you?"

"You seem very good at it."

"I'm good at putting people at their ease. For men that mainly means listening to their boring stories and implying that I fancy them."

"So you're not happy a
t work then?"

"It's not really the work. I just get a little down time to time. But who doesn't? What about you? Do you like your new job?"

"I do. It makes me feel glamorous."

"Are you happy?"

"That's a big question. I love my kids."

"Lovely. Tell me about
them."

"Eilidh and Morag. They're just babies only 18 months old."

She smiled. "I approve of the good Highland names."

"My grandma spoke Gaelic."

"What about your wife?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you loved your kids. Then you full stopped."

He looked
puzzled.

"You didn't add...
and I love my wife.
Or as would have been more proper, you should have said her first."

"I've been with my wife since I was 16. I've never been with another woman."

She looked shocked. "Really?"

"Really."

"That's sweet. So romantic."

"It's just life."

"You must really love her. Childhood sweethearts. How lovely."

"I really loved her."  The alcohol was having an effect. Ailsa listened. He said, "I really, really loved her. But it's kind of got worn away. I d
on't know why I'm telling you this."

"Because I'm a stranger?"

He shrugged. "Her depression and moods make it hard. She just explodes for no reason. I  walk on eggshells all the time."

"She must be tired with the twins."

"I know."

"Does she have family and
friends in London? For support."

"Not really. Our families are miles away."

"Well then it's very hard for her."

"I know  - of course."

She put her hand on his. He let it lay there. "You're very sweet John. All mixed up and confused but quite good-looking too. Women like that recipe. They think they can fix you."

"And there's the lack of sex," said John.

She sat back. "Ah, that can be a problem." She took a drink of her gin. "We don't do sex, Duncan and I. Well he gets his birthday present and if he's not a total wanker, something at Christmas, but mostly he is a total wanker, so it's a once a year thing."

"What does he think about that?" he said.

"I've never asked him. Ah I see you're feeling sorry for him."

"Not really."

"My mother told me about men. She said if you don't satisfy them they'll look elsewhere – blah blah blah. I know the spiel. I've heard it. I ignore it."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"So have you had an affair?" she said. "For the sex?"

"That's a personal question. I wouldn't ask you it. Bu
t no, of course not."

"My husband is a bastard and I'd be justified if I did fuck someone else."

"So why did you marry him?"

"I've known him for ever. Our families moved in similar circles. They looked down on us for being trade but they liked our money. M
y father owns a distillery. His owns huge swathes of Sutherland.  A match made in heaven. He was a young handsome Naval officer with a promising career. It seemed to be predestined. It was just one of those things."

"Why is he a bastard?"

"Because he's an unfeeling narcissist who shags anyone he can persuade into bed with his forked serpent's tongue. He has no thought for anyone but himself. He's vain, shallow, and cruel. He's an alcoholic – a functioning one though. His superiors love him because he knows how to say the right thing and make the right impression even though I don't think he  does any real work. Also he doesn't want children and my body clock is ticking away while I'm still shackled to him. There's more but that's enough to be going on with don't you think?"

"So the obvious question?"

"Why am I still with him?"

Ailsa caught the waiter's eye and ordered a drink each for them, even though she hadn't asked John whether he wanted one.

"Why am I still with him?" she repeated. She shook her head. She was drunker now. Her eyes ethereal. For the first time John felt a stir of desire as he looked at her. He could see why men would want her. "Fucked if I know," she said. Then she shook her head again. "Security? Money? Nothing admirable. He tells me he can't live without me and then goes off and fucks secretaries and fashion models. You know he said he'd kill himself if I left him?"

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't know." She drank her gin and tonic in one gulp. "So we're both in unhappy marriages - probably both fools. I'm drunk."

"Yes, you are."

She stood up suddenly. "I need to go to bed. Come on."

"I'm not going to bed with you," he said.

"Very presumptuous.  You should be so lucky."

"You've already said that."

"Come on. I'm tired."

Th
ey made their way upstairs. John realised he was also slightly drunk, but not as much as Ailsa. He saw her to her door. She fumbled with the key. "Oh you do it," she said. He took the key and unlocked the door. "Eh viola."

She giggled. "You're next door."

"I know."

"Don't come knocking on my door in the middle of the night Mr Gilroy."

"You should be so lucky," he winked. "Good night."

Still she lingered, her back against the edge of the door. "I like you, you know," she said. "I didn't think I would."

He knew he should leave right then. But he didn't.

She stood there. "You could," she said.

"Could what?"

"Knock."

"Ah."

"I might let you in. Probably would in fact."

"I'm married."

"But you fancy me."

"You're very attractive, and you know it, which is infuriating."

She laughed. "I knew you fancied me. So it's good night then?" She mocked him.

He still lingered.

She moved towards him. "No one would know."

"I'd know," he said but still didn't move. "I've got to go," he said.

"Go on then."

He had missed the touch of a woman. It was so long since he touched female flesh. The drink eroded his morals. Standing there, she smiled a crooked smile at him. He took in her body - her hips, the swelling of her breasts. And he wanted her. She was still grinning, still half joking, but then as he stared, she knew she had him, and her eyes went smoky and lustful. She was wild as a Maenad. He reached forward and kissed her. Her mouth opened to receive his kiss. His right hand ran up through her blonde hair. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him. He felt her breasts against his chest. His hands went up to them.  His lust set him on fire and swept him away like lava. He smelled her. He knew she wanted him too, but he pulled back.

"What?" she said.

"I shouldn't have done that."

She shrugged and stepped away, as if she didn't care. He studied her to try and see whether she was  offended. "It doesn't mean anything," she said. "Don't worry."

"I've never been unfaithful to her."

"For me it would just be sex. No big deal. I thought you were like all the other men. It's nice you're not. She's lucky."

"I'm sorry too. I really do like you. There's something about you that's honest."

"Under my dishonesty?" She laughed. He couldn't
tell if she was embarrassed. She shrugged. "It's nothing personal. I just like sex."

He said awkwardly. "I'd better go to bed."

"Me too." Just as she turned, she halted and then said, "We'd better be careful around each other."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing big, it's just..."

He should have gone. He should have left her but he wanted to hear. "What?" he said.

"I said it was nothing personal. But it felt different. Maybe there's a chemistry... Maybe? I don't know if I believe in that. It just felt different."

"I don't know either."

She laughed at herself. "I say stupid things when I'm drunk. It's just that chemical reactions can have unwanted consequences."

In the morning, he went down and ate his breakfast alone. They were due to get a taxi at 9:30 for the
airport. He went to the desk and paid the bill with his Office credit card. He waited at the hotel door, wondering whether he was going to have to knock at Ailsa's room in case she'd slept in.  The he saw her coming down the stairs, dragging her bag behind her, bumping it on each step. She didn't look up at him until she was beside the desk.

             
"Have you paid?"

             
"Yes. You missed breakfast."

             
"I've got a hangover. Not hungry."

             
"The taxi's outside."

             
"Fine."

The taxi driver took her case and put it in the boot. She gave the driver one of her smiles and got in the back seat. John got in the front. Ailsa said nothing all the way to the airport and John was left to pass the time by talking to the taxi driver who
was a Somali and whose knowledge of English was limited to a few phrases about Manchester United. On the plane, sitting beside each other as they waited for take off John said, "Can we talk?"

Ailsa looked at him properly for the first time that day. "Why?"

"Last night."

"We had too much to drink. That's it."

Around fifteen minutes later, above the clouds, the sun shone in through the aircraft window, catching the highlights in her hair. She had pulled on her sunglasses but was asleep, breathing lightly.

At
Heathrow, once they were through Customs, she said goodbye without looking at him and went off to catch a taxi. He stood and watched her go as she passed out of the airport and through the automatic doors. He watched her hail a taxi, pulling her bag behind her. He got the Piccadilly Line Tube and changed at Leicester Square.

At Woodside Park Tube Station he bought some flowers for Karen and walked with them in his right hand, his holdall slung over his left shoulder, along the straight tree lined road that
led from the station towards their house.