Keep Me (Beggar's Choice #3) (21 page)

I make myself smile and laugh. “I won’t go in for WWF any
time soon then.”

He shakes his head laughing and giving me a hug he lopes out
of the room, but as I sit there in the sunlight I just feel cold, and I can’t
help but remember Sid’s warning at the rehab clinic and feel that maybe without
realising or meaning to, I just let go of him.

Part Two

After

I never thought I’d
miss you

Half as much as I do

And I never thought
I’d feel this way

The way I feel

About you

As soon as I wake up

Every night, every
day

I know that it’s you
I need

To take the blues
away

Madness “It Must be
Love”

One
Year Later

Present
day

Alys

I stare at the incredibly beautiful, stick thin model who is
currently eating my expensive muesli, and feel a wave of violence rise in me.
She’s perched on one of Bram’s leather bar stools, long wet blonde hair flowing
over her shoulders, and her bare, tanned legs and arms displayed to their best
advantage. She’s wearing an old Prodigy tour shirt of Bram’s and it’s fairly
obvious that she’s not wearing anything else i.e. underwear. Eugh! I make a mental
note to disinfect the seat when she’s gone.

I hover for a second feeling sick as I see her kiss swollen
lips and satisfied smile, and then I make myself relax and paste a welcoming
smile onto my face. Looking up she sees me in the doorway and immediately
stiffens, a bitchy expression sliding into her perfect features. I inwardly
sigh and let the initial false smile fall away. This is the most common
reaction to me amongst Bram’s women when they find out that I live in his flat.
It’s either this or trying too hard to be my friend, but it’s the first
reaction that’s the most common.

“Can I help you?” she asks sharply which is highly ironic as
she’s the guest making herself comfortable while I’m the one that actually
lives here. But she still makes me feel like an interloper and I hate her
suddenly for that because that’s just how I feel all the time now. After all
she’s the invited one, the one that he chose to bring back to his bed and fill
the flat with the sound of their moans and groans. I’m just the person that he
barely tolerates anymore, that he’s obviously counting down the days until I
leave.

I sigh and stiffen my spine. Making myself smile I wander
into the kitchen. “Good morning,” I murmur. “Did you find everything that you
need?”

“Sweetheart I did that last night,” she smiles, uncurling
herself into a deliberate feline stretch and eyeing me smugly all the time.

Cow
I think but I keep smiling like I always do.
“That’s good. Let me know if you need anything.”

“
You?”
she echoes. “Who are you exactly? Are you the
maid?”

I look down at my ripped, skinny jeans and slouchy navy
jumper and smile wryly. “No I’m staying here at the moment,” I say quietly as I
busy myself making a cup of tea and sliding a bagel into the toaster.

Silence falls for a second and I occupy myself by admiring
my electric blue pedicure, but I can feel her looking at me like a laser beam
on the side of my face and then she stirs and I look up. “Oh you’re the
disabled relation from Ireland that he was telling me about last night,” she
says dismissively, elongating her words in an exaggerated way which is so
insulting. I’m deaf, I’m not an idiot. I feel anger rise too quickly in me to
be denied. How dare she speak to me in this fashion as if I’m defective, as if
she and Bram had a good chat about how good he is to take the poor little deaf
girl into his home.

Putting down the butter knife I turn to face her, pasting a
sympathetic look on my face. She looks momentarily worried and so she should.
“You know I do think that you’re brave,” I say conversationally.

“What?”

“Yes, it’s so brave of you to be with Bram despite the
problem.”

She flicks her eyes from side to side and for a second I can
clearly read how much she doesn’t want to admit ignorance. Finally she caves.
“What problem?” she whispers.

“Well you know, the Bertha problem.” I mouth the word
Bertha
and she stares at me fascinated and hanging on my words.

“Who is Bertha?”

I feign surprise. “
What
? He didn’t tell you? Oh
perhaps I shouldn’t say anything.”

She glares at me. “Oh no he’s told me some stuff but tell me
more. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

I grin inside.
Of course he won’t
. “Well she’s his ex
but don’t worry because the court order stops her getting too close.”

“What?” she whisper shrieks.

“Yes she’s a bit …” I whistle and make a twirling motion
near my head. I don’t think that she’ll mind the political incorrectness seeing
as she has just treated me like a village idiot for being deaf.

She sits up sharply and looks around quickly, almost as if
Bram’s fictional ex is going to come at her any minute and I supress a grin.
“Is she dangerous?”

“Well …” I seesaw my hand, fully enjoying myself now. “She
can be I’ve got to be honest, but not often and security usually gets to her
before she can hurt anyone.”

“
Usually
?” Her voice rises in a shriek and I consider
turning my hearing aid down for a second.

“Well sometimes she can be a bit quick and the hammer has
got quite a long handle so it’s got a long reach.” She jumps up like a shot.
“Oh no where are you going? Seriously we have to pity her you know,” I say
sanctimoniously. “This love for Bram, it’s a sickness but hey I’m sure it’ll be
worth it.” She glares at me. “No really, what’s a hammer against plentiful
orgasms?”

In a few quick strides she’s out of the kitchen and I run
quietly to the door just in time to see Bram in the hallway and hear his Irish
voice deep and familiar. “Hey pretty girl. Now that you’ve cleaned up how about
I mess you up again.” There’s the sudden loud sound of a slap and he curses. “What
the
fuck
?”

“How could you not tell me about the danger?” she shrieks.
Really I don’t need my hearing aid at all with voices at this decibel level.
“You know that my face is my business. Some mad cunt with a hammer needs to be
mentioned Bram.”

I can see the bewilderment in his face and I bend over
stuffing my hand in my mouth to muffle the massive laugh that is trying to get
out. “What the
fuck
? What cunt and what hammer?”

“That disabled girl mumbled something about it. I couldn’t understand
her fully with her funny voice but I managed to hear more than enough.”

I straighten up. I’d almost started to feel sorry for her
but now I don’t. There’s a shocked silence and then Bram’s voice slices coldly
through it. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that. She’s a fucking person,
not some fucking object that you can talk about like that.”

She stutters and huffs and then slides into purring
conciliation. “Well you should have told me about Bertha, Bram. A girl needs to
know what she’s getting into with her new man and his exes. Not that you’re not
worth it. Just tell me that the court order works.”

There’s a long silence and then he says slowly his voice
still hard with affront on my behalf but with recognition dawning. “You spoke
to Alys then?” I slide further back against the door so that he can’t see me.

“Is she the blonde? Yes she warned me.”

When he speaks next I can hear the stifled laughter in his
voice. “Yes well court orders are fine honey but sometimes, I don’t want to lie
they don’t work. You know, this is wrong. You’re so beautiful that I can’t risk
it babe.” His voice gets further away as he ushers her down the hall listening
to her protest about how he’s worth it.

He finds me later as I knew he would. I’m lying on my bed
trying to read a course book but really listening out for any signs of whether
she’s still here when suddenly I look up. He’s leaning against the doorway
looking far too good in faded old jeans that cling to his narrow hips, cupping
the bulge at his groin and falling to land on his bare tanned feet. He’s
wearing a brown Lacoste polo shirt that makes his hazel eyes glow almost gold.
His brown, messy hair is tousled around his tanned face, and he looks far too
good for someone that seems to be actively seeking to debauch themselves to
death.

He folds his tanned arms over his chest making his arm
muscles bulge and looks at me enigmatically, and for a second I flash back to
that morning when he’d leant against a chest of drawers and looked at me in
exactly the same way.

We stare at each other for a long moment and then I venture
a smile. “You’re welcome,” I offer. He raises one autocratic eyebrow and I race
into speech. “No need to express your gratitude. She’d got the look of a stage
one clinger about her. I mean if she was prepared to put up with Bertha then
she’d put up with anything.” I smile coolly. “In fact I’ve just realised that
makes her your ideal woman.”

He uncoils slightly. “Ah yes, poor dear
Bertha
. How
is she Alys? Is her medication working yet?”

I swallow, trying not to laugh. “Yes, bless her. That dear,
dear girl and her big, massive hammer.” I can’t help it and let out a laugh
which rapidly turns into a girly shriek as he launches himself at me, his body
landing on me, and before I can move he’s manacled both my hands above my head
and he rests his body against mine. Laughter instantly turns to a darkness that
rushes through me ending up between my legs which are currently wrapped around
his thighs.

For a second we stare at each other and images from that night
rush through my brain. He seems to fall into me and then I gasp as I feel his
hardness press against me. His eyes darken but at the sound of my gasp he
immediately levers off me falling to my side on the bed. His chest rises and
falls sharply and then he sighs and I immediately brace for the recriminations
and shouting which usually follow what has become my uncontrollable impulse to
fuck his women off. Instead he turns to me and traces his hand down my face
gently.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Completely taken aback I stare at him. “Why?” I whisper, not
wanting to break his gentle mood which I haven’t seen since that night a year
ago.

He sighs. “For the way that she was with you. Fucking, rude
bitch. You don’t need that and I’m not having anyone talk to you like that. You
heard didn’t you?”

I nod. “I don’t usually need my hearing aid for noises that
loud.” I expect him to smile and I’m surprised when he doesn’t. He’s obviously
more bothered by that remark than I initially thought. I catch his hand and I’m
amazed when he holds it tight and bends to whisper a kiss along it. “That’s not
your fault,” I say steadily. “You’re not responsible for her attitude.”

“No, but I brought her here.”

“To be honest Bram from the noise echoing through the flat
last night I don’t think that you were testing her political correctness and
disability awareness.”

He flushes and for a second I think that he looks almost
shamefaced. “Yeah, maybe I’d have been better off doing that.” He looks hard at
me and words seem to hover on his lips but then he shakes his head. “Maybe I
should vet them from now.”

I smile but inwardly I want to shout
why shag them
anyway? Why be with them?
But I don’t and silence falls and we lie
comfortably for a few minutes and it’s almost like when I first came here and
we’d fallen into that instant, easy friendship like we’d know each other for
years. That had stopped a year ago though and almost as if he recalls the state
of armed neutrality that we now live in he stirs and sits up. “I’m going to
order dinner,” he says quietly. “Do you want some?”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I say softly and he moves
towards the doorway and then he stops.

Turning back to me, making sure that I can see his face he
hesitates. “I miss this,” he says finally, gesturing between him and me. “I
miss
us
. Don’t you?”

I smile and shrug and he waits for a second for me to echo
him but then he shrugs clumsily and moves away leaving me there silent and
unable to tell him that I miss him too like a physical pain, but that after
that night a year ago we’ve proved that we can’t be that us ever again.

***

The next morning I walk up to the café where I’ve arranged
to meet the girls. It’s a small, cosy place decorated in primary colours in
Hampstead and they do the most amazing cakes and pastries. Unfortunately, by
the way that my stomach is twisting I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything.
Damn that man for ruining cakes and giving me an incipient ulcer.

I open the door and search the rooms for the girls and then
seeing them I wave and start making my way over. The place isn’t very busy and
I’m thankful for that because cafes are the worst for my hearing. All those
voices and clattering of pots and cutlery make it difficult to hear anything.
However, I’ve turned my hearing aid up in anticipation and I just hope that
it’s not whistling.

The girls are sitting at a large table by the big window and
there’s only one old lady sitting nearby. Viv is looking at something on her
phone, a frown playing on her face, while Elen and Mabe are chatting happily. When
I get to the table Mabe jumps up to give me a hug, the engagement and wedding
rings on her finger glinting in the sunlight. She and Charlie got married last
year and I’ve never seen anyone so absolutely incandescent with happiness. I
tap her fingers and pretend to shield my eyes. “Oh, I’m going blind Mabe.
Thanks for making me into another minority.”

“Oh my God,” she gasps. “You are
so
politically
incorrect.”

I smile. “I can get away with it. Me and Matty, we’re like
Teflon.”

“How is he?” Elen asks giving me her sidelong smile. She’s
not much of a one for physical contact but she doesn’t have to be because her
smiles say everything, being warm and open. “He was round at ours the other
night and he seemed happy.”

“I think he is but he won’t say who the new man is. I’ve
tried everything to get it out of him but he won’t break.”

“Water torture?” Viv enquires seriously and I shake my head.

“Not fully. I did spill a cup of tea on him the other day
but he was too busy taking his jeans off to answer probing questions about his
love life.”

“I’d love to probe him,” Viv cackles and we all groan. “
What
?”
she asks. “He is amazingly gorgeous. What with him and Bram I don’t know how
you don’t fill that flat with drool.”