The Nature of Cruelty (40 page)

“You’re not even half finished with your food.”

Frazzled, I stare down at my tray, realising he’s right. I slump back in my seat and take a gulp of water.

“I’m not here to make you feel uncomfortable, baby,” he says, leaning both hands on the table and bending down to meet my eyes. His endearment makes me catch my breath. “I’m here to do what I said I’d do. I’m going to prove to you I can be the kind of man you need.”

“Robert, you shouldn’t do that,” I whisper, turning away from him.

“I’m doing it, Lana. Hey, why don’t you come and eat with me and my friends? You look lonely sitting here all by yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I say as I glance over at the two women and one man he’d come in with. “I’m glad you’ve made friends, though.”

He laughs. “Yeah, we kind of had no other choice. We’re the only mature students on our course. So it was either band together or hang out with a bunch of irritating eighteen-year-olds.”

Just as he says this, one of the guys in the ’70s gear jumps up from his table and starts doing John Travolta dance moves.

“See what I mean?”

I giggle, unable to help myself. “You should go and eat before your food gets cold.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, eyes consuming me. “I guess I should. See you around, little red.”

And with that he returns to his table. I manage to avoid him for the rest of the day. When I get home that evening, Mum and Liz are in the kitchen having a cup of tea and a chat. I slump down into a chair beside them, exhausted. I never realised how much energy you need to expend in the activity of avoidance.

“Do you want a cup of tea, hon?” Mum asks.

“I’d love one.”

Liz is looking at me funny. She’s got this big smile on her face and a pleased glint in her eye.

“Liz, stop staring at me. You’re giving me the creeps,” I tell her, too exhausted to censor myself.

Mum fills my cup and pours in the milk. “Lana, don’t talk to Liz like that.”

I laugh tiredly. “What? It’s true. She’s smiling at me like I just told her I’m buying her a brand-new house.”

“I’m in a good mood today,” says Liz. “What of it?”

She winks at me when Mum’s not looking.

“There you are. Liz is just happy today, Lana. No need to be rude,” says Mum, picking up some plates and bringing them to the sink to be washed. When she starts running the tap, Liz leans in and squeezes my hand. “Robert’s here, you know. He’s studying at Trinity, the same as you.”

“Yeah, I know. I bumped into him today,” I tell her.

Her eyes get all big and inquisitive. “Oh. And how did that go?”

“Fine.” I narrow my gaze. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Liz?”

“No, no, of course not,” she answers, pursing her lips and trying not to smile.

“Liz.”

“What?”

“Robert’s been telling you stuff, hasn’t he?”

“He might have.”

I let out a long sigh. “So you know about us?”

She squeezes my hand and wiggles in her seat excitedly. “Yes. And just so you know, I’ve got my fingers crossed that you take him back. He’s really turned over a new leaf, and I didn’t think it was possible, but my boy is head over heels in love with you.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Mum asks, turning off the tap and wiping her hands on a dish cloth.

I glance at Liz, shaking my head ever so slightly as an indication for her not to breathe a word of this to Mum.

“Oh, let me tell her, Lana, please!”

“Liz!” I squeal, appalled by her lack of self-restraint.

“Tell me what?” Mum questions, all business.

Before I can prevent her, Liz spills the beans. “Robert and Lana have been seeing one another.”

Mum’s hands immediately fall to her hips. “Say again?”

“Your daughter and my son are in love.”

“Were in love, Liz. Past tense. It’s over now,” I lie.

I swallow hard and look at Mum, seeing a vein practically pop in her forehead.

“Lana, please tell me it isn’t true.”

“Oh, come now,” says Liz. “My boy isn’t the brat he used to be. He’s a grown man. Think about it, Fiona. Our kids could get married — how perfect would that be? We’d practically be sisters.”

Mum’s stern expression softens a touch as she takes in Liz’s enthusiasm. Pulling out a chair, she sits down and gives me a curious look.

“You said it’s over. What happened?”

“Nothing huge,” I lie again. “It just wasn’t working out.”

“Yes, well, maybe that’s for the best.” She folds her arms, satisfied.

“Fiona!”

“Shush, Liz. I’ve nothing against your son, not anymore, but my Lana’s a delicate girl. She’s not made for the likes of Robert. He’d eat her alive.”

My mouth hangs open as I realise how similar her words are to my own. How I’d told Robert we couldn’t be together because of my illness, my fragility. Jesus, had I just been parroting my mother the whole time? All of a sudden, I’m questioning my motives for ending things and wondering if it had simply been my mother’s morals seeping through. Are they so ingrained in me that I didn’t even realise they were there to begin with?

“Ugh, I can’t listen to this,” I say, rising from my seat and leaving the room.

“Lana, I didn’t mean any offence,” Mum calls after me, worry in her tone.

I don’t bother answering her.

A couple of hours later there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I sigh and call for whoever it is to come in. Mum appears and comes to perch by the end of my bed. I sit up, wearing my comfortable pink pyjamas, momentarily feeling like a little kid.

“I know I can come across a touch harsh sometimes,” she says, wringing her hands. “It’s not my intention, I promise. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you earlier.”

I sit up and hug my knees to my chest. “That’s okay, Mum. I know you have my best interests at heart.”

A silence elapses.

“I’ve noticed a difference in you since you’ve come home. You seem sad a lot of the time.”

I make eye contact with her now, surprised that she could tell I’m sad.

“Yeah, I guess I kind of am,” I whisper.

“Is it because of the breakup?”

I nod and glance out the window at the starry night, unable to bring myself to elaborate.

“Well, stop me if I’m wrong, but Liz seems to think that the main reason Robert’s back here is because he wants to be closer to you. If that’s the case, and knowing all of the glitz and glamour he’s given up, I can admit that’s an admirable thing to do.”

I cringe at her and laugh. “Glitz and glamour, Mum, really?”

She waves her hands. “Oh, you know what I mean. The flashy London life his father leads. It seems his move here was meant to show you that all that isn’t as important to him as you are.”

Christ, Mum’s certainly changed her tune. Liz must have given her what-for after I stormed out of the kitchen. And if that’s the case, then the stuff Liz told Mum must be what Robert told her during one of their heart-to-hearts. The thought makes me want to rush from my room, run across the field to Liz’s house, and throw myself at him, beg him to forgive me for being such a coward and ending things. But I don’t, because, as I just said, I’m a coward.

“Is this you giving me your blessing?” I ask her, arching an eyebrow.

“This isn’t me giving you anything, Lana. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. I just wanted us to have a talk. It was long overdue.”

At this she stands, pats me softly on the head, and leaves the room.

The next morning Mum, Gran, and Alison are headed out for a family fun day that’s being held down in the village. I’m in no mood for going with them, so I stay home. Mum asks if I’ll answer the door to Liz when she comes to collect the apple pies Gran left for her. Gran is a seasonal baker. Every couple of months she’ll go through a phase of baking dozens of apple and rhubarb pies and giving them to all our neighbours. She puts cinnamon in them, and they’re a huge favourite throughout the village.

I had planned on having a long soak in the tub, so I leave the front door on the latch so Liz can come in herself and collect the pies. We practically live in the middle of nowhere, so there isn’t much chance of being burgled. Twenty minutes into my bath, there’s a knock at the door.

“It’s open, Liz, come on in,” I call, dipping my head down into the water to rinse the suds from my hair.

Footsteps sound down the hallway. “Uh, Lana?” I hear Robert’s voice call, unsure. “Mum sent me over to collect your Gran’s pies.”

Oh, my God. I leap into the air and slam shut the bathroom door before he can make the mistake of venturing inside.

“Right, yeah, they’re just in the kitchen,” I call, wrapping myself up in a towel. It’s not nearly big enough and only covers as far as my upper thighs.

Robert’s voice seems a mixture of amusement and curiosity as he asks, “Where are you?”

I emerge from the bathroom, which, since I live in a bungalow, is in direct view of the kitchen doorway. I’m about to make a quick dash for my bedroom but find Robert standing there. His eyes eats me up from my head all the way down to my toes.

“Shit,” he whispers.

I clutch the edge of the towel for fear it might fall off from the sheer force of his heated gaze.

“Yeah, um, I didn’t know…” I can’t find any other words for practically a whole minute. All I can think about is how he told his mum he gave up his old life to be closer to me. “Close the front door on your way out,” I blurt, and hurry to my room.

Leaning back against the wall, I bang my head into the plaster in utter embarrassment. That couldn’t have been any more awkward…or sexually frustrating. My door handle moves and opens a fraction.

“Can I come in?” Robert asks in a gravelly voice.

“You probably shouldn’t,” I breathe heavily.

He peeks his head inside, a cheeky smile on his face. “I promise I didn’t know you’d be bathing. Can’t say I regret it, though.”

Unable to stop myself, I let out a quick laugh, shaking my head at him. “You’re too much.”

“Really?” His tone is flirty now. “I thought I was just enough for you, baby.”

“Robert!” I exclaim.

“What?” His grin is sexy as hell.

The next second I’m in front of him, shoving him down the hall and telling him to get his pies and leave. Unfortunately, I don’t fail to notice the erection straining in his pants. I actually brush my hand over it by mistake when I’m ushering him out of the house. He groans softly, which I do my best to ignore. Once he’s gone, I return to my room and lie down on my bed, letting my hand fall between my legs in an effort to ease some of the need he instilled in me.

Twenty-One

O
ver the next fortnight Robert keeps his distance while breaking down my barriers bit by bit. Every second or third day he’ll be waiting outside the library at college with coffee for both of us, sometimes fruit smoothies or bubble tea (which is becoming a new favourite of mine.) I take them all gratefully, not wanting to be rude, but also secretly pleased he’s persevering. We have walks around the campus and chat. It feels different now that we’re home, not so urgent and all-consuming as it had been with him in London.

Often I’ll be making my way out of the college gates to go to the train station, and he’ll be sitting in his car with the windows drawn down, looking cool as shit and offering me a ride home. I always say no, too frightened of being confined in such a small space with him. I’m not sure I’d be able to hold onto my self-control if I said yes.

We mostly talk about Sasha and how she’s faring in her new job, which she’s enjoying immensely. Common ground. She’s also moved out of her dad’s house in Finchley and gotten an apartment of her own. He tells me about his search for a place to live closer to the city, since he doesn’t want to be getting under his mum’s feet. He found an apartment in Donnybrook that he’s going to be moving into soon. Inside I feel mournful that he won’t be living next door to me for much longer.

He also talks about how his dad was pissed he upped and left his job, but that they’re talking again now. All in all, he seems to be making a concerted effort not to broach the topic of our relationship, perhaps in fear that he’ll scare me away.

That all comes to an end one Thursday evening when I’m hard at work in the library, jotting down a passage in ancient Greek that I need to translate. I hear a chair move and look up to see Robert taking the seat beside me.

I continue writing as he leans his elbow on the desk, resting his chin on his fist, watching me.

“You’ve got pretty handwriting,” he observes as I scribble down the Greek letters.

Giving a soft smile, I reply, “Thanks.”

He sucks in a long breath and lets it out.

I pause my writing. “What are you doing here, Rob? You looked bored.”

“I’m far from bored,” he says, right before I feel his hand slide softly across my thigh. Trembling, I put down my pen but can’t bring myself to look at him. Nobody has touched me in weeks, and the mere pressure of his hand causes tingles to radiate through my body. His fingers move higher, and my cheeks go red as my breathing quickens.

“Ah, look at that,” he purrs. “You feeling a little needy, baby?”

I close my eyes and try to gather my wits. He shouldn’t have this much power over me.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

I silently nod, my eyes still shut.

“I miss being inside you so fucking badly, Lana. It’s been agony not to touch you. Every night I dream about your tight little pussy squeezing me when you come.”

“Robert! You can’t talk like that in here,” I whisper at him, appalled but entirely turned on.

“Nobody heard me,” he says, chuckling low, his fingers dancing between my legs now.

“That’s not the point,” I snap, needing to get away from him before I break. I stand and pick up the pile of books I’m finished with. Walking over to the re-shelving unit, I place them with the others, then go to search for the book I need next.

As I’m standing by a shelf, nobody else around, I feel Robert step in behind me. He’s so close that his breath hits the back of my neck, provoking goosebumps. Before he even touches me, I whimper. Then, quick as a flash, he pulls me into him and just holds me, his muscled arms crowding me in, one across my chest, the other around my hips. My back meshes with his front and my head falls to my shoulder, my body telling me this is what it wants, to hell with what my brain might be saying.