Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller (7 page)

‘Does it matter?’

She shrugged and lied, ‘I guess not.’

Simone drove home and couldn’t stop thinking about Nathan and
his poor father. After all the years she had known him as a strong healthy man
it was so sad to see him that way and yet selfishly she was just happy to have
spent the evening with Nathan. It had only taken a couple of days to realise
that she actually yearned for him. She hadn’t been prepared to leave her life
on hold during Nathan’s absence, never knowing the true reasons why he left,
when or if he would return but she had never forgotten about him, she had just
buried her feelings when he left. She married Martin out of sympathy and the need
for companionship and during that time she had managed to convince herself that
Nathan was no longer an important part of her life, but she had been lying to
herself, he was as important to her as air.

She turned onto her road and saw that Martin’s car still
wasn’t in the driveway as she approached the house. She wondered where he was,
but realised she didn’t care, her concerns for his whereabouts were born more
from habit than actual interest or worry. She wondered what Nathan was doing
now.

As she entered the empty house she had an epiphany, it almost
stopped her in her tracks; she suddenly felt as if she had just woken up and
now understood that she had to change her circumstances no matter what. She had
to forget about her infatuation with a man she hadn’t seen for fifteen years
but use his reappearance as a catalyst for change. She knew Nathan had feelings
for her despite his casual attitude, but if he didn’t want to be with her, if
he returned to London for good, would she still leave Martin and start a new
life elsewhere? The idea of changing her life completely would be a massive
decision but the decision was made in an instant; she would even leave the police
service if she had to. She liked what she did for a living but there was more
to life than looking at death and getting smacked in the face by angry
Romanians. She could move away, go somewhere Martin wouldn’t find her and maybe
make a living out of photography. That would be the dream. She had the means, a
joint savings account, half of which was hers but she also had her own savings,
stashed in an account Martin didn’t know about. She had squirrelled small
amounts of money month after month and yet never really considered why she
found the need to hide it from him. And now she realised she had subconsciously
been planning her escape.

The answering machine in the hallway beeped and she checked
the messages. It was Martin shouting into his mobile over the noise of a
crowded pub, he had gone out for drinks with his shithead work buddies and he’d
be home later. At least he had the decency to let her know where he was, that
was one thing. She erased the message before it finished and went upstairs. It
was hot and stuffy in the house so she opened the bedroom window and went to
the bathroom where she took the dressings from her bruised face and winced at
the sight of her blackening eyes, her damaged nose and split lips, she looked
awful and could do nothing but try her best to ignore it. She ran a cool
shower, and held her pained face under it and gently cleaned it in the
refreshing spray.

She was alone and she felt freed, the silence was glorious
and peaceful after the onslaught of the past few days. She climbed into bed
bruised and naked, the sheets were cool and crisp and the mattress let her melt
into it, she may have been sore but she couldn’t remember being so comfortable.

She had been asleep when vibration of an engine and the thud
of a car door through the open bedroom window woke her. She looked at the clock
and saw it was gone midnight. Martin was home. She listened to the front door
slam and then tracked his movements by the crashing and thumping as he moved
from hallway to kitchen and then onto the staircase.

Simone positioned herself with her back to his side of the
bed and pretended to be asleep. She was very tired and hoped she might actually
manage to get back to sleep before he got into bed.

The bedroom door opened quietly but over swung and bumped
against the chest of drawers behind it. He said, ‘Oops,’ in the darkness and
made a shushing noise to himself. At least he was trying to be quiet she
thought. He crossed the room and crept into the bathroom, the light clicked on
and spilled across the floor. She could smell cigarettes and alcohol in the
air. Urine splashed noisily in the bowl and the toilet flushed. The light
clicked off and he swore to himself. He stood in the bedroom and mumbled
something about not being able to see anything and then whispered her name. She
ignored him but he persisted from the other side of the room, whispering louder
this time, ‘Simone, are you awake?’

She had no choice other than to reply. ‘Yes.’

‘Turn your light on, I can’t fucking see anything.’

‘Be quick.’ She stuck out an arm and flicked her bedside
light on, waited with her eyes closed until she felt him get into bed and
flicked it off again.

His arm came around her and a hand cupped her breast. She
said, ‘You’ve been smoking.’

‘Only a couple.’

His hand roughly massaged her breast and then slipped down
her belly; it was the same hand that punched her there before. She put her hand
on his and tried to stop him, she wanted to say:
Get off me, you make me feel sick
, but she didn’t she just said,
‘It’s late and I’m tired.’

He was breathing in her ear and began to kiss the nape of her
neck. He whispered, ‘Go on.’ She could feel his erection press against her
buttocks so she arched her back and presented herself to him. He fumbled around
as he tried to anoint himself but found it a struggle in his drunken state. He
tutted to himself and she could sense him becoming frustrated so she reached
around and helped him penetrate her with his doughy penis. For a while he moved
against her as she lay still, the side of her face was sore from the bruising
and every time his weight rocked her into the pillow the pain was a constant
reminder of what he did to her barely hours before. He roughly pawed her breasts
and pinched her nipples and breathed hot stale breath onto the nape of her
neck. She closed her eyes and thought of Nathan, she didn’t feel guilty. She
wondered what Martin would say if he knew Nathan was back and she was working
with him. It would be better if he didn’t find out.

She felt the movement from behind slow, stop and start again,
he was drunk, clumsy and out of rhythm. The movement stopped again and she lay
still listening to his breathing. He started to snore and she lay like that for
a while and then slowly moved his hand away from her breast, the snoring
remained constant so she moved away from him, repulsed at the feeling of him
slide out of her. She rolled onto her back and put her hand between her legs -
cupping herself for protection in case he woke up and tried again while she was
asleep.

Only one man’s name was on her mind as she drifted back to
sleep.

The following morning Simone was in the bathroom when the
phone rang. It was early; too early for social calls, the intermittent ring
seemed amplified and the sound made her heart leap in her chest. She wanted to
rush out and answer it, silence it, but knew she couldn’t, all she could do was
listen in silence as Martin answered it and hope it wasn’t Nathan.

But it was. She just knew it.

The sounds from the bedroom created images in her head: the
incessant ringing made Martin moan as it drilled at his hangover, he swore and
snatched at the receiver. All this she saw in her mind’s eye as she looked at
herself in the mirror.

Muffled through the bathroom door she heard Martin say,
‘Yeah?’ then there was silence, pure, deathly silence and she knew for sure.
Thoughts spun in her head; what was Nathan calling her at home for? Something
must have happened.

Martin said, ‘I’ll get her for you.’ It was her queue; she
opened the bathroom door and casually stood in the doorway. Fire burned in
Martin’s eyes as he held the receiver towards her and said, ‘It’s Detective
West.’

She walked towards the bed, forcing herself not to look
guilty – to not look like she had been keeping secrets from him. She
reached for the phone and Martin dropped it onto the bed. It was a childish
thing to do and Martin managed to define his entire persona in that one tiny
action. Simone shot a glance him and put the phone to her ear. She was going to
have to explain this and Martin was going to rage but she kept her voice level.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked.

‘A woman was attacked two weeks ago but she got away. We need
to go see her; it could be our man.’

‘Okay.’

‘I’ll pick you up and twenty minutes. Be ready.’

Her instinct was to ask him to meet her at the station but
the game was up - Martin knew Nathan was back in town so she acquiesced.

‘Twenty minutes,’ she said and hung up. She dropped the
receiver back onto the bed and turned towards the bathroom without even looking
at Martin or trying to offer explanation. She could feel his stare crawling
across her back and for a split second she thought she was going to make it into
the bathroom before the impending argument began.

‘Why didn’t you tell me Smokey was back?’ he said.

She turned to him. ‘It didn’t occur to me.’

‘Liar.’

‘Listen, he lives in London, he’s back because his father is
in hospital, he has cancer, and while he’s been here there was a murder and
they pulled him onto the case.’

‘What’s it got to do with you? You’re just plod nothing more
than a bobby.’

‘I’m working on the case too.’ It was hard not to keep the
pride out of her voice and he noticed, he snorted at her sarcastically. She
said, ‘I have to get ready, I’m getting picked up.’

‘I thought you were making more of an effort in the old
make-up and hair department.’

‘I don’t have much choice, look at my face.’

‘I have, and what a state it is too,’ he said. ‘Fucking
punchy faced bitch.’ He laughed nastily and climbed out of bed. His eyes were
bloodshot, his mouth a twisted snarl. ‘Punchy and Smokey, strutting around town
like fucking Starsky and Hutch.’ She watched his paunch and flaccid penis
wobble as he spoke. He pointed at her. ‘It’s pathetic.’

She looked him up and down. ‘My thoughts exactly,’ she said
and hopped into the bathroom before he could respond. She knew he wouldn’t
touch her this morning no matter how angry he was. He was too hung-over to make
the effort and she was about to go to work, fresh bruises, blood and tears
would be an all too obvious sign of domestic abuse.

Martin was downstairs when she came out of the bathroom. She
dressed quickly and then watched out of the bedroom window for Nathan to
arrive. When his car pulled up she went downstairs, gathered her keys and bag
and walked straight out of the front door without saying goodbye to Martin.

In the car she wondered if she would pay for the argument
later, her home life was quickly falling apart and yet she couldn’t find one
aspect worth fighting for. She sighed to herself and tried to put it to the
back of her mind and concentrate on the day ahead.

Simone looked out of the side window as they drove and
silently summoned the effort to enquire, she said, ‘Tell me about the woman.’

West ignored the question and used the broken silence as a
way of explaining his actions. ‘I got your numbers from the station; home and
mobile and I rang your mobile first but got no answer so I rang the home
phone.’

She didn’t look at him. ‘My mobile was downstairs in my bag.
I didn’t hear it go off.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’ll live.’

‘You hadn’t told him I was back had you?’

‘I didn’t get round to it.’ She was lying to both of them now
and the realisation that she had put herself between her husband and the man
she loved hit home, it was a road she was unprepared to travel. Nathan wanted
to help but he didn’t want to pry. She still felt shaken from the argument with
Martin and not yet in tune with the day but soon it would be time for honesty;
and she was kidding herself if she thought Nathan hadn’t noticed she was
unhappy. If she was going to confide in anyone Nathan was the one she could to
talk to. Her marriage had eroded her self-esteem and she had lost confidence in
others as well as herself. She didn’t feel close enough to anyone to trust them
with her burden until Nathan walked back into her life like a beacon in the
darkness.

She knew Nathan’s secrets; she had kept them with her for
years. He trusted her and she knew she could trust him; maybe it was time to
ease the weight. Not now but soon, the right time would come.

He said, ‘I know I’m not exactly his favourite person but I
had no choice, it was the only way to get in touch with you.’

‘It’s fine. He had to find out you were back sometime.’

‘It was that or just come straight round and knock on your door,
and I thought that would go down like a ton of bricks.’

‘You did the right thing – if you need to contact me
then contact me. Martin hates you and we both know it.’ For some reason it felt
strange to use his name in front of Nathan. ‘I didn’t tell him you were back
because I couldn’t be bothered with being on the receiving end of another one
of his jealous rages, but now he knows you’re here and he’s going to have to
deal with it.’ As she spoke it felt like a weight had been lifted from her
chest.