A neatly-dressed man of around thirty-five, whose pouched and wine-coloured face looked distinctly unhealthy, walked out of a shop and glanced up and down the shopping centre concourse which was, this summer evening, almost empty. He paused a moment holding his carrier bags and winced from a headache that had been bothering him since morning. Moving away along the aisle of glass fronts he paused again to check behind him before he stepped on the escalator. A furtive expression passed over his face as if he were escaping a pursuer.
Running a hand through his hair the man blushed and thought of what he and his wife owed to banks and credit card companies. It was an unpleasant association and it brought back the headache so that under his breath he muttered, ‘Where’s the damn aspirin.’
Stood on the escalator, he searched for the pills he knew were buried somewhere in his sports jacket’s pockets; he bought great stocks of aspirin lately now that he suffered regular, almost daily headaches. Reaching the top he gave up and walking on a few paces, he turned back and surveyed the shopping centre as a whole: gleaming brightness shone everywhere and a fountain flowed at the far end of the central concourse.
‘You make me come, come so alive.’
This piped music made his head hurt and he put down one of the carrier bags in order to flex his right hand. Just now, when he had bought the loafers and polo shirt the spotty boy at the counter had called him ‘sir’ as he handed over the credit card. Mel had banned that card from use but he wanted those loafers and anyway the new bank loan had eased their situation for the next few months.
At the top of the mall he leaned on the railing for breath and looked down, hoping he would not run into any more of his former customers. It had been an embarrassment to meet that one today on the high street. Henry Rodall had gone past smiling nastily without saying hello. This seemed an ingratitude, since two years before Jason had kept quiet about Henry’s affair, kept it all discrete and hush hush as a special favour to Henry. Jason thought of others who’d betrayed him and the injustice of it made his blood beat and darkened his face. How they’d turned their backs, clients he’d known years. Wouldn’t spit on them now.
He made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan.
‘Oh for…sake woman where did you park the car?’
Some teenage girls came by in close fitting jeans and he watched them, shifting a carrier bag around to the front of his trousers and blushing as he watched flesh wobble beneath denim. They opened cans of pop and Jason considered going over to say something - perhaps he could suggest taking them for a drive one night. While he thought about it the girls moved off, so he just smiled to himself and wondered when it would all end.
He entered the car park, made out the car and walked to it, tossing the bags in the back. Walking to the low wall, he looked down at the town below and the brown buildings resting in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and opened them, thinking: what if he jumped? How much pain would he feel from this height? He tried to work out how many seconds he would take to fall this distance of perhaps seventy feet.
Thirsty. Leaning into the car he searched for the little cola bottle in the glove compartment - warm and flat but he drank it quick. In the wing mirror, he saw his wife coming.
She was looking back at him while he begged for understanding.
‘It was a mistake can’t you see? It was not done on purpose.’
The accident had altered their marriage and she treated him without the indulgence of before and if they had guests to witness her rebukes or scolding so much the better. The hot weather made Jason as eager for sex as he could recall and in bed at night he would place a hand on Mel’s breast and massage it gently and murmur ‘angel, your body is so good’, at which point she would remove his hand.
He could not argue with her about it since all that prevented them from going under was Mel’s working herself half to death. Rejected he would roll back onto his side, close his eyes and defer to her: he wondered if this meant his ‘spirit was broken’.
Strange to end like this when it had started off so wonderfully well. When he began as an electrician he loved being his own boss with no puffed-up manager trying to make his life hell. He was unpopular with the other electricians in the town but he worked hard and soon he and Mel could afford the new house and regular holidays.
Then in January a retired civil servant or cabinet minister or something phoned one Sunday and asked Jason to do some work on the wiring of his kitchen. Busy, Jason drove over that afternoon and performed the job in a hurry and hungover, getting out as fast as he could. Making her cocoa that night the man’s wife received an electric shock that put her in hospital for a fortnight.
At first Jason thought he would end up in court, but though he had escaped charges he had been unable to get any bookings since the incident and their money situation turned bad. Neither he nor Mel could stop spending. He thought about the second car he had bought on an impulse, which broke down weeks later and sucked away money until he was forced to sell at a quarter of what he had paid. Spending hundreds of pounds in night clubs they were too old for.
As she walked up to the car stray sunshine flashed onto Mel’s white sandals. Her sunglasses were raised on the top of her head and she carried shopping bags.
‘How was it?’ he said as she paused beside the car.
She shrugged. ‘The usual.’
Mel put the bags down and wiped her brow. She had gone back to work taking a job behind a bar four nights a week as well as serving in a department store. They claimed she encouraged men while at the bar - her figure remained good and she was pretty but there was a worn-out look to her lately. He wondered if she had slept with any customers.
‘Tired?’ he ventured.
‘What do you think?’
‘How was the shopping?’
‘Leave it.’
Like himself she’d been clothes-shopping, though like him she had plenty of clothes at home. Jason had a full wardrobe of silk shirts, chinos and well-cut jackets. Climbing into the car Mel proceeded to roll a cigarette.
‘All set for Saturday?’
‘Mm-hm.’
He started the car and reversed out of the parking space.
‘Looking forward to it?’
‘Mm-hm.’
‘Come on - what did you buy?’
She sighed.
‘A dress, a top, and some shoes. I’ve been wanting the shoes for ages.’
‘I got some shoes too.’
She shrugged, impassive and lit the roll up; to save money she had taken to rolling them. He drove down the winding concrete ramp out of the car park and into the town.
Two things bothered him, and he pondered them as he drove, and felt a return flash of the headache. First, he wanted to sell the house for ready equity but she would not even discuss it: her identity was tied to the place and the notion of selling made her furious. She said she would rather be dead than live like her parents and her father in particular, who had been to jail.
‘We’re professionals,’ she would say when people talked about class. ‘I see myself as middle class. Maybe not before, but now.’
Jason watched her smoke, leaning her elbow out of the window while the sunlight slanted onto her and the wind ruffled hair which was brown with gold highlights. The blue of her eyes suggested tropical seas; the breeze summoned a reddish-gold flush to her skin.
‘Beautiful evening,’ he said.
‘Isn’t it just?’
He drove in silence and came to a main road, and while Mel leaned over and snapped on the car radio Jason thought of the second thing that bothered him. He wanted to look at the account books, he wanted to go through them alone without her standing over him. He’d turned over the house while she was out, searching for a key to the desk drawer where she kept all the papers; he’d looked into her purse while she showered. From what he’d seen of the books Mel’s calculations had left them ten or fifteen thousand better off than they should have been and he knew she was doctoring the figures. He had not even asked her about it, he simply had to trust her.
This very morning he had found a letter pushed back into its envelope, addressed to her, on the hall table. He opened it and read it while she was upstairs getting ready, then shivered as he popped it back in its envelope: someone from the bank was coming to the house to talk to her.
The orange sun dashed behind trees and after about a mile the country ended and there were superstores and then houses. Parking in the close, he made to speak to Mel as she reached for the car door.
‘Listen.’
Her sigh warned him. She said, ‘What is it?’
He swallowed.
‘When’s this man from the bank coming?’
‘Tomorrow. Tomorrow evening.’
‘What are you going to say to him?’
‘He’s got a few questions he wants to ask.’
‘So what will you say?’
Before he had finished she was out of the car and striding to the edge of the front lawn.
‘Yes, you! Keep that bloody ball off our garden, if it comes near again you’ll be in trouble I swear.’
Jason climbed out and slammed the car door shut heavily and wearily. He stood on the porch looking at her with suspicion, alarmed by the thought of ending up in court because of all this. But she pushed past him and lugged her shopping indoors while Jason went to the hall and checked his messages, the first from a friend he did not want to see and the second from a well-spoken stranger.
‘…response to your advertisement we need an experienced man… possible work within a fairly tight schedule for refitting…’
Jason cursed and dialled them back hearing a voice pick up and say ‘How can I help you?’ in the same plummy accent. When Jason said his name the voice replied, ‘Ah, now that’s just who I wanted.’
The man was converting into office space some property he’d just bought, a former motorcycle repair shop. It would be extensive and they needed it cheap.
The stranger said, ‘Can you come by tomorrow?’
When it was set up Jason put the phone down feeling his pulse surge in his temples as a sense of victory flooded his thoughts, as if he had defeated his enemies, those who had tried to break him. He thirsted for something to drink and entered the kitchen.
Mel was opening a bottle of wine. ‘I just got a month’s work – at least.’
‘Mm,’ Mel said. ‘Who?’
He explained and she listened but did not comment, pouring herself a glass of wine. Then she rose from the table and looked down, her fingertips brushing the pine surface of the table as she bit her lower lip.
She said, ‘Look, I’m going upstairs to check on something.’
‘What’s that? Something to do with this man coming?’
Walking out, Mel did not answer him. On the television a policeman shouted and someone sobbed – like bedlam, Jason thought, flicking it off. He retrieved the best scotch from a cupboard and poured out a measure which he sipped slowly while pondering the change in his fortunes.
The kitchen grew dark. Blue shadows filled the room and he listened to his wife upstairs moving around and wondered what she was doing up there in the spare room, and then he thought about tomorrow night and the man coming from the bank. Christ, he hoped she’d put him off the scent, get out some flesh for him and make herself up to distract him. But still Jason felt uneasy.
When he had taken his third glass he had an idea, exciting him. Tingling, he rose and crept to the kitchen door with light steps, holding his breath and waiting for a while. It would not be easy since she could predict his movements, but perhaps her exhaustion tonight would give him an edge. He glanced out at the hall where his shoes lay beneath the table, opposite the stairway.
Night had almost come. It was shadowy up there, but a light was shining out onto the landing very faintly. The door from which it came opened into the spare room where Mel would be at work by the table lamp, going over the books and trying to make their financial predicament look sound. Holding his breath Jason edged away from the kitchen doorway and placed one foot on the bottom stair.
He hesitated, afraid. But then he felt his own authority and was brave again from the alcohol that warmed his blood: gripping the banister he took another step and then another. He was the master, after all.
The stair creaked on his fifth step and he froze while adrenaline thrashed silently in his veins, heart pumping hard with fear and whiskey, shaking his whole body. From within the upper room came a rustling of papers and the sound of Mel clearing her throat.
Again he began to climb until he reached the landing, where he paused outside the door keeping to the side so that he could not be seen. Peering in he spied Mel seated at the desk and the blank white walls of the room.
She sat with her back to him and various papers laid out on the desk; she propped her head on one hand and talked quietly to herself, ran a pencil down a sheet she had pulled from the pile. Outside the window a streetlamp glowed. Mel tapped the paper with her pencil.
Jason looked at the sheets of paper. Next to Mel’s right elbow lay a notebook open on the desk – his own account book - upon which had been dropped, rather haphazardly, a thick bunch of blue sheets. Seeing this he made his move. Edging into the room he came up behind until he could hear her breathing.
Mel had stopped work to watch his reflection in the window. Without turning around she said, ‘Get out.’
Now. He took a jump forward, bent down and grabbed the accounts book and the pile of sheets. He seized them in both hands and tore them out of her grip before she could catch hold. Mel twisted around to face him and leapt from the chair with her fists clenched and face darkening. She came at him as he backed across the room to the door with the papers and book gathered up in his large hands. Her eyes shone.
In a rage-strangled voice she said, ‘You little shit. You little shit what the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Jason was sweating but he forced a smile. ‘I want to have a look at them, that’s all, just to – to check.’
She held out her hand. ‘Give them to me, now, this minute,’ she said, choking out the words in her disbelief. Then she stepped quickly forward so that he had to back through the door to keep the papers out of reach.
‘Give those papers to me right now Jason or you will be so, so sorry I swear. This isn’t a game you little shit.’
He tried to keep his voice level. ‘You’ll have them when I’ve finished with them and not before.’
‘I’m losing patience!’
Jason moved back out onto the landing. The best thing now would be to make a run for the bathroom and slam and lock the door, just keep her out by force until he could make a good study.
‘I swear,’ Mel was saying. ‘I swear if you don’t give those back to me, I swear Jason, I will make you so sorry.’
But the sheer level of her rage was unexpected and Mel would have to be calmed or else. The look on her face sobered him – the way her features twisted as if she were under the worst possible ordeal. He’d had no idea before that she might be capable of such feeling and he regretted for a moment the whiskey-prompted impulse to come up here. His face was soaked all over with perspiration and he glanced down at the book and sheets in his hand.
Stop now while you can, he thought. Give them back to her.
Mel sensed it – she saw his weakness and lunged to grab the papers. He jumped to the side in the direction of the stairs and she fell against him. He heard an exhalation of breath as their bodies glanced, then lost his balance.
He went down. He hit the stairs hard and rolled over losing consciousness. He tumbled all the way to the bottom, the accounts book slipping from his fingers to hit the kitchen door, while sheets floated down over his torso and his legs. The house was silent a while, Jason lay on his back very still, and then opened his eyes. Involuntarily, a moan slid from his lips.
Straining he raised his head in order to peer up the stairs. Mel lay prone at the top watching him. Her mussed hair hung over her eyes and mouth and she panted quietly, in shock. She would not take her eyes from him – their gazes held each other for some time, locked.
Three hours had passed when she came around the side of the bed and climbed in.
‘Jason.’
‘What?’
‘The doctor will be here, they said there may be a wait for a few hours. How is it?’
‘Bad,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t work tomorrow, you know.’
She sighed.
‘Where? There?’ she whispered.
‘That’s it, there. I can’t work with my back like this.’
‘It’s not broken so don’t be dramatic. You’ll get an injection and you’ll be all right since there’s no swelling. Does it feel numb?’
‘No.’
‘It’s not broken and you’ll be able to work, its muscular.’
‘I hope so.’
‘All right, all right, that’s enough.’
He waited for the ambulance which was late the blasted thing.
‘Give me a kiss.’
She did it.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Ah, my God.’
Soon, there appeared against the wall of the bedroom a glare of headlights, a strange hue which altered the dimensions of the room, and he heard her stamping up the stairs and walking in with the words, ‘Okay here it is, here he is, Jason.’
‘Yes?’
She said, ‘Yes. He’s come to help, you buffoon.’
