Please Don't Stop The Music (18 page)

And
it felt so
good
. To forget all the promises I’d made
to myself, to forget all the awfulness, all the terror that had
gone before. To free myself momentarily from the fear that being
close to a man would wipe my personality away and replace it with
that of a kicked dog.

And
then he shuddered. Moaned in his throat, a cry of – what? grief?
frustration? and let me go. Closed his eyes and rested his forehead
against the glass-fronted cabinet above the fridge, arms wrapped
around his torso and his fists clenched.

I
was left gasping. For air and for sense. My brain was scrambled by
the onslaught of emotion, both his and mine. And then the heat of
desire suddenly drained away, leaving me chilled with the horror of
what I’d so nearly done. And with a sadness, an awful, overwhelming
ache.

‘
It’s okay,’ I found I was saying. ‘It’s okay, Ben.’ Like the
aftermath of a crash while the metal is still ticking itself cool,
I was forcing myself to be calm. ‘Really.’

He
was still huddled over himself, eyes shut. Rocking.

My
heart was trying to escape. The room seemed to wheel and split and
I grabbed at the washing machine to steady myself. ‘Ben.’ I put a
hand on his shoulder.

He jumped. As if he’d forgotten I was
there, or hadn’t heard my reassurances. ‘
Christ.
’ I’d never heard anyone
sound so regretful, so empty, so
lost
.

‘
It’s okay.’ It seemed to be all I could
say. I wanted him to echo it, to tell
me
that everything would be all
right, too. That nothing had broken that couldn’t be fixed, that he
didn’t think of me any differently now. That we could forget this
had ever happened.

And
then like the call of sanity from the living room, the phone began
to ring. Ben opened his eyes and stared at me as though he’d never
seen me before.

‘
Christ
.’

He
was actually shaking.

‘
The
butter is burning.’ It was all I could think of. What do you say to
a man who’s just kissed you like that? What do you say when the
memories come back to haunt you and all you want to do is
run?

‘
Where are you going?’ His eyes were wide, his pupils huge,
they seemed to swallow up his face until all I could see were those
holes in his soul. ‘Jemima?’

‘
It’s
okay
. I’m just going to answer the
phone, it might be important.’ And I needed to get out of that room
where the smell of burning butter was beginning to take on a
brimstone tinge.

It
was Jason. ‘You sound rough. What’s up?’

‘
Nothing. Ben’s here cooking a meal.’

‘
Yeah,
right
. Cookin’. I getcha. You want
to get back in there and show ’im that trick with the ice cubes
…’

‘
Jason, why are you ringing?’ I had to
interrupt otherwise Jason would be on the line all night giving me
his favourite sex tips. And I so –
so
– did not want to think about sex
right now.

‘
Ah.
Well, thing is, luv, I think I might have left the welding iron on
down at the studio. Any chance you can pop over and turn it off? I
mean, it’s not like the place’ll burn down or nothing but … you
know, safe side an’ all.’

‘
Can’t it wait until the morning?’ Or any other time when I
don’t have a possibly suicidal guitarist in my kitchen?

‘
How
much do you care about your stuff in the workshop? On a scale of
one to ten where one is Terry Wogan and ten is his gorgeousness out
there?’

‘
All
right, I’ll go over now. Just to set your mind at rest.’

‘
Thanks. Oh, and Jem –?’

‘
What?’ There was a sound of saucepans clanking from the
kitchen.

‘
The
ice-cube thing. Honest. Every time.’

‘
Shut up, Jason.’ And I put the phone down.

Ben
had scoured out the burned pan, remelted the butter and was
stirring it with careful, close attention. His eyes, when they met
mine, were slightly desperate. ‘Everything all right?’

‘
Just Jason wanting me to run over to the workshop, check he
hasn’t left the welding stuff switched on. Are
you –?’

‘
You’d better do it then. I’ll get the starters prepped while
you’re gone. This is nearly done, so we’ll be ready to eat by the
time you get back. Rosie will just have to have hers
later.’

The
heat was making his skin flush and his eyes were vast through the
steam. I wanted to fall into them, I wanted to run. How could one
person feel so much conflict? My mind was tearing itself apart. And
now, thanks to Jason, all I could think about was the ice-cube
trick and how Ben would have reacted to it. ‘I’ll be
quick.’

‘
Maybe sometime you could show me your workshop? It would be
cool to find out how you actually make the buckles.’

Had
I fallen into a parallel universe? One in which Ben and I hadn’t
been on the verge of ripping one another’s clothes off but had
instead spent a decorous evening discussing art and improving
literature? ‘Yes. But not now, unless you want to burn the bottom
out of another pan.’

He
smiled, and it was only the touch of wildness at the edge of his
expression which gave the lie to his words. ‘I’ll be fine
here.’

The
coolness of the night air spread like a lotion over my hot skin.
Already the events of the evening were beginning to seem a distant
memory, or a dream. Maybe I’d over-reacted, maybe his kiss had been
simply an affectionate peck that went wrong. But my thighs jumped
and twitched under the remembrance of his touch, the sureness of
his fingers against the gap between my hold-up stockings and my
knickers. No-one makes that kind of mistake – even if the kiss had
been a figment of my imagination it would have taken a work of
creative genius to explain away those hands.

Ben had wanted me. And I’d wanted
him.
And then with a flash of horror my
mind opened and let the memories in. The huge emptiness where our
parents had been. Randall, trying to keep us together, Christian
falling apart. And Gray. Love that wasn’t love but fear turned on
its head. And then the running, always the running
…

I shook my head, letting the air circulate
around the back of my neck. It was just one of those things, I had
to keep telling myself. It didn’t mean anything. Ben was lonely,
hurting, wanting reassurance and happened to be there.
Meaningless.
So why was my skin burning
where he’d touched it?

The
welding gear was standing in the centre of Jason’s workspace. I
couldn’t see any indications that it might still be connected to a
power supply but I switched off the plugs, just in case. It was
typical of Jason – a man who could quite happily leave bacon
grilling for hours but when it came to professional equipment was a
worrier.

I
made my way back towards the cottage. As I crossed the lawn, I saw
the shadow of a vehicle pull up. It was too far away for me to tell
what it was, or where it had come from, but the headlights breezed
past my feet momentarily then carried on a little way down the
drive, past the cottage. I heard the stealthy sound of a door
opening then voices whispering. There was a short break, another
whisper, the expensive clunk of a large car door closing and then
the engine raced the vehicle away, towards the village.

Rosie came through the gate. She and I caught sight of one
another and both clutched at our hearts in mock fright.

‘
What the hell are you doing out here?’ she asked. Her voice
was a little shaky, maybe I’d genuinely scared her, looming across
the grass out of the night. ‘I thought you’d be cosy with Ben by
now.’

‘
I
might almost suspect you of arranging to go out this evening simply
to get that to happen.’ I might have sounded a bit shaky, too. ‘I
keep telling you, Ben and I – it’s nothing.’

‘
That why you’ve got stubble burn that I can even see out here
in the DARK, is it?’

‘
No,
I’m blushing, that’s all.’

‘
Yeah, right.’ Then Rosie paused, cocking her head. ‘Is that
Harry?’

‘
He
was fine when I left, fast asleep.’

‘
He’s not fast asleep now.’ She increased her pace and
thankfully stopped interrogating me. ‘He sounds really
upset.’

‘
I’m
sure Ben will have gone to him,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry.’

But
when we got into the cottage Ben was cooking madly, grilling fish
with one hand and whisking meringue with the other. A tea towel was
draped over his shoulder and his hair had come down over his
face.

‘
Ah,
there you are. Food is just about ready. Good timing, Rosie.’ But
Rosie pushed past him without even stopping to exchange
pleasantries, heading for the stairs. I followed her, anxious not
to be left in those close confines with Ben again.

‘
Harry?’ Rosie rounded the corner into her bedroom. ‘What
…’

I
could hardly hear her above the sounds of Harry screaming. He’d
somehow managed to flip the carry-cot over on top of himself,
trapping his body under its weight. Rosie released him and picked
him up. She was trembling all over.

‘
Oh,
my God,’ she kept saying. ‘Oh, my God.’ Harry’s little red face was
streaked with tears and one arm looked slightly blue. ‘Oh, God.
Should his arm be that colour? Oh, God, Jem, what am I going to
do?’ She hugged the baby tightly against her chest, rocking him
until his screams subsided into a more general grizzle. ‘Oh God.’
She carried Harry downstairs and sat on the sofa with a kind of
numb expression.

‘
Call the doctor. He’ll check Harry over for you but I’m sure
he’s fine.’ I dragged the phone to her and left her dialling,
whilst still trying to reassure a hiccupping Harry that he was all
right.

Ben
had stopped cooking and the steam had died from the kitchen. He was
peering through into the living room, watching Rosie and the
stricken Harry; he looked pale.

‘
What kind of sicko leaves a baby to scream like that?’ I
launched myself at him. ‘And don’t give me some pathetic story,
because you were cooking away and obviously not taking a blind bit
of notice. How long had he been crying?’

‘
I
can’t – ’

‘
You
bastard
!’ And before I even knew I’d
done it I’d pulled my arm back and smacked him right across his
perfect cheekbones. It was a full-powered, open-handed strike that
knocked his head to one side with its force.

Ben
froze completely. His whole body seemed to fold in upon itself and
his face was made up entirely of eyes. A tear trembled on his
eyelashes but the immobility of his expression meant that it
couldn’t fall. Something inside me tore apart. ‘Ben?’

A
sudden movement as he swiped a hand across his eyes and then he was
gone. Out of the door, fleeing through the garden and down to the
road. A pause, surely not long enough for key to meet ignition
system, and then the noise of a powerful car being driven at
reckless speed down the lane.

Rosie was convinced she was such a bad mother that Social
Services would be along any day to take Harry away.

‘
I
can’t believe I went out! What was I thinking, Jem? Anything could
have happened!’ Rosie was so caught up in her own feelings of
inadequacy that she hadn’t thought to blame me or Ben. ‘I mean,
what if he’d got himself trapped under the wardrobe or got his face
stuck in something – he’d have suffocated! And I wouldn’t have been
there!’ Another fresh burst of tears. Harry picked up on her misery
and began wailing again, despite the fact that the doctor had
looked him over and pronounced him to be ‘one of the healthiest
specimens I’ve seen in a while.’

‘
You
weren’t to know. And we’ll make sure it never happens again, so
stop fretting.’ Half my mind was trying to follow Ben’s actions in
all of this, wondering what had been going through his head.
‘Harry, there’s nothing wrong with you and that’s
official.’

I could feel my own lip trembling in
sympathy with the weeping pair. Why hadn’t Ben stayed and explained
himself? Was all this tied up with his fear of – yes,
exactly
what
was
Ben so scared of? Physical contact? He hadn’t felt scared, not for
those few moments holding me in the kitchen. Turned on, yes.
Desperate, yes. But not afraid, not until afterwards. I tried to
think back over those moments when I’d seen that look of panic
appear in his eyes but it all seemed so unrelated. He’d been
frightened of going to Saskia’s opening, when I’d found out about
his being in Willow Down, when I’d asked him to come for dinner –
perhaps he was just plain
weird
.

I picked at the melon Ben had left and put
the rest away in the fridge. Neither of us had much appetite,
although Harry gulped down his bottle and then fell asleep.
‘Honestly, Harry, you’re such a
bloke
,’ I said, watching him settle
drunkenly in Rosie’s arms. ‘No sympathy with emotional turmoil at
all.’