Fire After Dark (31 page)

I’m in such agony, my head rolling round across my shoulders, my back arched inwards away from the blows, my arms tense, that I can’t think at all. All I can do is dread the next blow.

The . . . safe . . . word . . . is . . .

I gather all my strength and howl, ‘Red!’

He hits me again, wham! Hundreds of blades slice into my fervid skin.

‘Red, Dominic, stop, stop!’

It’s not red . . . it’s . . . oh FUCK, the PAIN . . . it’s . . . something else . . . it’s . . . HOLY HELL . . . I’m dying, I’m dying . . .

‘Scarlet!’ I scream. ‘Scarlet!’

I tense for the next blow and when it doesn’t come, I start shuddering uncontrollably, sobbing wildly. I’ve never felt such pain, inside or out.

‘Beth?’ It’s a voice I’ve not heard for days. It’s Dominic’s normal voice. The voice of my friend, my lover, the man I’ve been yearning to see again. ‘Beth, are you all right?’

I can’t talk, I’m crying too hard, tears streaming down my face, my nose running. The sobs are shaking me all over.

‘Oh God, baby, what it is it?’ There’s panic in his voice. He drops the flogger and dashes forward to unbuckle my restraints. As my arms are freed, I flop down and sink to the floor, taking my head on my knees and rocking back and forth as I cry.

‘Beth, please!’ He puts his hand on my arm, careful to avoid the agonised tenderness of my back.

‘Don’t touch me!’ I spit, enraged through my tears. ‘Don’t come near me!’

He holds back, shocked and uncertain. ‘You used the safe word . . .’

‘Because you were beating the shit out of me, you bastard, you utter bastard, after everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve offered you and endured . . . My God, I can’t believe…’The big sobs are racking me now but I manage to speak through them. ‘I’ve been such a fucking idiot. I trusted you, you bastard, I put my faith in you and look what you’ve done to me . . .!’

I’m so desperately hurt, from the physical pain and from the sad remnants of my broken trust, and all I can do is weep.

For several minutes Dominic watches me in silence as if at a loss how we came to be in this situation, or how to comfort me. Then he quietly gets my coat and wraps it round me. Even the soft cotton of the trench hurts like hell as he drapes it round my poor back.

He helps me gently to my feet, and leads me out of the dungeon, through the empty bar and out. The car is still waiting for us on the road above. We climb in. I’m still crying, unable to rest my back on the seats, as we return to Randolph Gardens.

I weep all the way. Dominic does not say a word.

THE FOURTH WEEK

Chapter Eighteen

That Sunday is the worst day of my life. I’m in agony, for one thing, my back covered in a mass of livid red welts that makes me gasp in horror when I see them in the mirror. I haven’t got any way of anointing my back with lotion, either, so I spend a long time in a cool bath, trying to draw the heat out of my skin.

I am also in a terrible state emotionally, unable to stop weeping at the memory of what Dominic did to me. It feels like an awful betrayal. He asked me to put my faith in him, and I did. He asked me to trust him to know my limits and I did. I told him that I did not like the dungeon but that is where he took me, to inflict unspeakable agony on me.

And I let him
.

That is what hurts too. Dominic may have wielded the whip but I let myself get into that situation. Then I remind myself that it’s Dominic who lost control and took the whole thing to a level beyond my capability. He must have forgotten in the heat of the moment that I’m a novice at this – but it was his responsibility to look after me, and be aware of what I could take. He failed at that.

It’s also deeply painful that Dominic has not been in touch with me to talk. He has gone silent. I receive one text message that reads simply:
I’m sorry Dx
and nothing else.

Does he really think one text is going to make up for that . . . that assault?

He’ll have to do better than that.

On Monday morning, I ring James and tell him I’m ill and can’t come into work. He sounds a little wary, as if he can tell that I’m not being honest, but he says all the right things about looking after myself and not coming in until I feel better. I spend the day alone, thinking obsessively over the days I spent with Dominic, trying to analyse why it went so very horribly wrong. I curl up with De Havilland on the sofa and take all the comfort I can from his soft, purring warmth.

At least the cat still loves me.

The welts on my back are still vivid and sore, but the pain is dying down a little. The heat, which kept me awake on Sunday night, is now ebbing out of my skin. I can imagine a time now when it won’t hurt, when I’ll be healed.

On Tuesday, I call in sick again and now James sounds worried.

‘Is everything okay, Beth?’

‘Yes,’ I say, ‘well . . . sort of.’

‘Is it something to do with Dominic?’

‘Yes and no. Listen James, I need one more day. I’ll be back in tomorrow, I promise. I’ll tell you then.’

‘All right, sweetie. Take the time you need. I understand.’

I know how lucky I am to have a boss like him.

By Tuesday afternoon, I’m feeling a little better. My back continues to hurt but it’s definitely improving. I’m still sick at heart, though, at not hearing from Dominic. Whenever I think of it, I feel devastated that he could treat me so badly and then abandon me. Surely he must know that he left me an absolute wreck?

It’s late on Tuesday afternoon when I hear the knock at the door. My heart begins to quicken at once as I think instantly that perhaps it’s Dominic.

No, I tell myself sternly, as I go to the door. It’s bound to be James, calling round with chicken soup and chocolate for me. But I can’t help hoping as I reach the door and open it.

To my astonishment, the man waiting for me outside the apartment door is not Dominic or James. It is Adam.

‘Surprise!’ he cries, grinning all over his face.

I gape at him, unable to believe my eyes. He looks so different to me now, even though he’s exactly the same as I remember. His clothes are shabby and totally lacking in style: he has a cheap checked shirt on under a grey sweat top with the name of some sports team on it, and baggy blue jeans that sit under the swell of his belly. He’s wearing large white trainers and has a sports holdall over one shoulder. He stares at me, obviously delighted with his surprise arrival.

‘Aren’t you going to say hello?’ he says, when I remain speechless.

‘Ah . . . ’ I’m still finding it hard to process the evidence of my own eyes. It doesn’t make any sense. Adam? Here, at Celia’s flat? ‘Hello,’ I manage limply.

‘Can I come in? I’m dying for a piss and a cup of tea. Not at the same time obviously.’

I don’t want him to come in but as he needs the lavatory, I feel I can’t refuse. I step back and let him inside. It’s so weird seeing this part of my life, one I thought was a closed chapter, walking into my new existence. I don’t like the way it feels one bit.

‘There’s the loo,’ I say, pointing to the bathroom and his dash inside gives me the moment I need to gather my thoughts. When he comes out, whistling happily in the way I once thought sweet and loveable and now makes me grit my teeth, I say, ‘Adam, what are you doing here?’

He looks surprised at my clipped tone. ‘Your mum told me where you were and I wanted to come and see you.’ He spreads his hands as though asking how I could question such a simple, natural thing.

I stare at him. I have a vague memory of having loved this man once, of being devastated when he broke my heart, but it seems ludicrous now. He looks pallid and half-formed compared to Dominic, with his non-descript messy hair, plump face and pale blue eyes.        

‘But Adam,’ I say, trying to sound measured and reasonable, ‘last time I saw you, we broke up. You were fucking Hannah, remember? You dumped me for her.’

Adam makes a face and waves his hand in an impatient gesture. ‘Oh that. Yeah. Listen, I came to say sorry. That’s all over. It was a mistake and I regret it. But the great news is, I really want to give us another chance!’ He beams at me again, and waits, as though expecting me to scream and whoop with joy.

‘Adam—’ I stare at him helplessly. I don’t know what to say.

‘What’s a guy got to do to get a cup of tea around here?’ he asks, and starts opening doors. When he finds the kitchen, he says, ‘Bingo’ and goes in. I follow, hating the way he’s intruding into my ordered life. I remember now how he always used to barge in and help himself to anything he wanted, leaving a mess in his wake.

‘Adam, you can’t just show up like this. You should have called.’

‘I wanted to surprise you,’ he says, looking a little hurt. He takes the kettle to the sink and starts to fill it. ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ He gives me little-boy-look, the one that used to melt my heart.

‘To be honest, it’s not a great time.’

For goodness’ sake, don’t try to spare his feelings! He didn’t do the same for you! Just tell him to sling his hook and get out!

‘You don’t look too busy. Your mum said you might be at work and to wait till later or call you, but I thought I’d swing by and see what’s happening, and here you are! Fate, you see.’ The kettle is back on its cradle and switched on.

Okay, one cup of tea, then he’s out.

I make two mugs of tea while he tells me of his trip to London on the train and his experience of the Underground. I take him through to the sitting room, where De Havilland is sitting sentinel at the window, gazing out at the pigeons as he often does. He turns his yellow stare to us, blinks and returns to the window, his tail tucked round his legs.

‘This is a bloody nice place,’ Adam says, looking around the room. ‘Whose is it?’

‘My dad’s godmother. She’s called Celia.’

‘Oh. Well, play your cards right and you might inherit it.’ He gives me a knowing look. ‘That’d be nice.’

We sit on the sofa. I wonder what on earth I’m going to say to him. Then I remember the recent past. ‘So. Hannah. It hasn’t worked out?’

He wrinkles his nose as though he’s just thought of something distasteful. ‘Nah. We just didn’t gel. It was more of a physical connection, you know? Which was all very nice for a bit, but it got boring.’

I see the image them in bed together, but it doesn’t hurt or appal me now. In fact, they seem well suited. I have a flashback to Adam making love to me, panting hard in my ear as he pumped away, in, out, in, out, in exactly the same way every time. It was perfunctory and quick. Sweet, because I loved him, but darkly passionate? Stirring and exciting? Did he push boundaries and help me discover aspects of myself that I didn’t know existed?

Of course not. Dominic did that.

I suddenly realise that I’ve been changed forever by my experience with Dominic. I can never go back to someone like Adam now. Dominic might have some kinky tastes and unusual pleasures, but at least he wasn’t boring.

Adam is gazing at me now, his hands wrapped round his mug. ‘That’s why I wanted to come and find you. Because what we had was really special. I was an idiot and I hurt you, but I’ve put all that behind me now. I want us to get back together.’

‘I . . . I don’t . . . think . . .’ I take a deep breath and say, ‘No, Adam. That isn’t going to happen.’

His face falls. ‘It isn’t?’

I shake my head. ‘No. I’ve got a new life now. A job.’

‘A boyfriend?’ he asks swiftly.

‘Well, not really. No.’
It looks like Dominic and I are over, after all. ‘
But that doesn’t change anything. There’s no future for us now.’

‘Please, Beth.’ He gazes at me winsomely. ‘Don’t write me off just like that. I know that me turning up here like this is a shock. Take some time to think about it.’

‘It isn’t going to change anything,’ I say adamantly.

He sighs and sips his tea. ‘Well, we can talk about it later.’

‘Later?’

‘Beth, I’ve got nowhere to stay. I thought I could stay with you.’

‘Why would you think that?’ I cry, exasperated. ‘We broke up!’

‘But I want you back.’

I shrug and sigh with exasperation. We’re back where we started.

‘I can’t go home tonight,’ Adam says. ‘Let me stay here? Please?’

I sigh again. I don’t have much choice in the matter; I can hardly throw him out in the streets. ‘All right. You can sleep on the sofa. But only for one night, do you understand? I mean it.’

‘Message received!’ he says cheerfully, and I can read all over his face that he’s confident one night is all he needs to win me back.

Once I’ve got used to Adam’s presence, I quite enjoy having him to stay, in an odd way. He’s good company and is soon chatting away, telling me all the gossip I’ve missed and what his crazy brother is up to now. I cook us a simple pasta supper and we share it while he natters on. It’s weird to hear so much noise in Celia’s apartment, it’s usually so quiet.

Later, we return to the sitting room and Adam tries to sweet talk me a little by reminding me of happy times we spent together and the promises we made to one another. I don’t mind reminiscing but it’s not going to have the effect he wants. When I bring him a pillow and rug and leave him to settle down, he makes an attempt to kiss me but I firmly rebuff him, which he accepts with seeming equanimity.

I’m sure he thinks it’s just a matter of time before I cave.

I go to sleep in Celia’s room, still bemused by the thought that Adam is next door right now, perhaps even planning how he’s going to sneak his way into my bed. Luckily I hear nothing from him all night.

The next morning, I’m feeling a great deal more cheerful and I’m keen to get back to work.

‘Are you off later?’ I ask Adam, as I gather my things together after breakfast.

‘Well . . .’ He looks a bit cunning. ‘I thought I might hang around actually, if you don’t mind. I’d like to see a bit of London while I’m here, as you’ve got the room . . .’

‘Adam,’ I say warningly.