Mercy Seat (11 page)

Luke, he said. He was beaming and made a great show of shaking my hand. Hey, I saw Jenny, he said. I wanted to bring you all a drink but I couldn't find you. He looked around him as if noticing for the first time that the place had become crowded.

The girls behind him were staring at me the whole time he spoke. They looked in as bad a state as Alex. Mr Lewis, who's your friend? one of them asked him.

This is Luke, he said over their heads, and belched. He
lives next door to me.

Hello, the one who'd spoken to Alex said. She was olive-skinned and slim, a little older looking than the other two though it was hard to tell exactly – they were all heavily made up. Even so, none of the three looked old enough to be drinking.

Let me get you a pint, man, now that I've found you, Alex broke in. I'll be right back. He lifted his hand to me and made for the toilets.

There was an awkward pause broken by the barman asking what I wanted. I ordered the vodka and whisky, hoping I could make my escape before Alex returned.

We're all in Mr Lewis' Social Studies class, the slim girl said while I waited for the drinks. We couldn't believe it when we saw him here. Do you know him really well?

Does he come here often? one of the other girls asked – a blond, plump kid with a pretty face.

Don't know. I'm never here. I looked at them more closely. Only the Mediterranean-looking kid seemed much over fifteen.

We come here quite a lot, she said, and the other two nodded solemnly. Mainly for the music. We know some of the guys in the bands.

I didn't have anything to say, so I nodded, wishing the barman would hurry up and get the drinks in front of me.

We couldn't believe it when we saw Mr Lewis, she went on. It's good when teachers go out, like normal people, isn't it?

Mr Lewis is great, the blond kid added. Is his first name Alex?

The drinks arrived and I reached to take the glasses.

Where's Mr Lewis? the third girl suddenly asked. She
was further gone than the other two. Her short-cropped hair was black, but her skin looked almost albino pale under the ultraviolet lights and the heavy make-up around her eyes made her seem mesmerised. I headed back for the table, leaving them staring patiently at the door of the Gents.

I was relieved to see Jenny and Christine talking again when I got to them, though the conversation died as soon as I took my seat. Christine drank quickly and Jenny didn't waste any time once she saw the glass was empty.

Ok then? she asked us both loudly.

Christine stood up obediently, then started looking about her feet. Did I bring anything? she asked.

Jenny shot me a glance. No, she shouted back, louder than she needed to.

I thought I did. She glared intently for a while at the legs of my seat. I feel like I did.

Come on, Jenny urged, looking at me.

I got up and Christine took hold of my arm, gripping it hard above the elbow. Ok? I asked her, surprised at the contact.

I'm fine. But help me get past all these chair legs.

I pushed the table away from her and shunted the stools clear with my foot. Her grip relaxed a little but she still kept hold until I'd walked her to the door, Jenny following along behind.

Outside, once we'd got up the narrow steps onto the pavement, Christine linked arms with me and rested her head against my shoulder as we walked. The night seemed to have grown warmer, though still humid, and the mist had vanished. Now the air had a soft, loaded feel to it and I could feel sweat beginning to prickle under the clamp of
Christine's arm and under the weight of her head. Near Bethesda, Jenny took hold of my hand on my free side and her palm was hot and moist. She squeezed my fingers hard and I turned my head to look at her. Don't worry, she whispered.

No, I'm not, I murmured back, not sure what she meant.

Michael had grizzled for an hour, then slept sound, Mrs Clements told us when we collected him at the door of their flat. He slept sweet as a little mouse, she said. Sweet as a mouse.

Thanks so much for having him, Jenny said quietly, smoothing Michael's wispy hair with the backs of her fingers as he started to grumble awake.

Well. And did you enjoy the concert? She eyed us sharply, obviously scenting drink. We'd sent Christine on up the stairs ahead of us, and I heard the muffled slam of one of the upstairs fire doors shutting behind her.

We had a lovely time, Jenny answered, already turning self-consciously and making as if to go.

Oh well. There's nice then, isn't it?

We'd best get him to bed before he comes round. Thanks again.

She watched us up the stairs to the first landing. Soon be in bed, Jenny crooned over Michael as we climbed the stairs. Soon be safe in bed.

Christine was waiting for us outside the apartment, leaning with her eyes shut against the doorframe. I wondered if she was sleeping on her feet, but when we got alongside she moved in on Jenny and Michael, stooping over his face to see him. I got the door open and Jenny
went straight to the cot. I could tell she wanted him away from Christine, and I wondered if Christine felt it through all the drink.

Will you make coffee, Chris? Jenny asked when her sister appeared at her shoulder.

Love to, she said, brightly enough, but I thought I could see a stiffness in her face as she straightened up and drew away from the cot.

Michael cried while we were finishing our coffees, and it was late when we finally settled him again and got to bed. I used the bathroom last and on the way back down something made a sound, or caught my eye, and I stopped at the kitchen doorway to check inside. There was a figure standing in the dark, leaning back against the sink.

Who's there? I said, stepping back into the light.

Hey Luke, the figure drawled, and I realised it was Alex.

I flicked the light switch and he winced.

I was getting some water. He raised a big red coffee mug to show me.

Don't throw up in here, I warned him.

No, man. No no.

A good night then?

He grinned slackly. Yeah. A good one. He took a big slug of water and grimaced as it went down.

Jenny was still sat up in bed when I got back. The main light was off but she had the tiny lamp that popped up out of her radio alarm clock still on, angled onto the side of her face. She was reading a magazine but folded it closed as soon as I came through the door. She watched me undress, then followed me with her eyes as I rounded the bed and climbed in beside her.

Has everything been all right today? she asked as soon
as I was settled. I'm sorry we went out tonight – it spoiled things, didn't it?

I shrugged. It was ok, I said. It was good for us to get out, maybe. A bit of a break from looking after Michael.

Jenny looked away, worrying at a nail with her teeth. Chris was strange, though, she said eventually. She went quiet on the beach, and then stayed moody all the time after that.

I kept quiet. I hadn't heard Jenny criticising Christine at all during her visit before then, and suddenly I got the feeling there was something starting to push under the smiles. I was unnerved, and curious, feeling the change in Christine too, but just shrugged again. I didn't want her to go on.

Well. Maybe it's just me, Jenny said.

I don't know. I think everything's ok.

She must have drawn blood then because she winced and sucked at the corner of the nail. I don't know, she said. It was like the old Chris was maybe coming back again.

Down on the seafront a car skidded, revved madly and roared off again along the prom. Anyway, Jenny went on, inspecting the nail she'd torn, I'm going to take a few more days off work. Do you think that's a good idea?

I had a couple of long afternoon spells at the warehouse fixed for the week ahead, and at first we'd planned to let Christine look after Michael while we were both out. I understood what Jenny was hinting at now though – she didn't want Christine alone with Michael anymore.

It'll mean you don't have to entertain her all on your own, she said. It wouldn't be easy for you if she had another moody day like today. And I can take care of Michael so Chris can go out and not get bored. What do you think?

I'm easy, I said, wondering what I actually felt, but not able to name it. I realised I was scratching where the sores had been, raking up the small scabs around my middle. I stopped and let the skin burn.

It means I won't have any more holidays left, but this is our holiday in a way – having Christine to stay and taking her out to places like the beach and the pub. We wouldn't do that normally any more, would we? Not with Michael.

No.

She was quiet for a minute or so, then reached across and snapped the little alarm clock lamp down. She curled herself into a foetal position and wedged her pillow more comfortably under her head. I'm so sleepy, she mumbled. It's been a long day. She yawned and shifted the pillow again. I can't believe we were on the cliffs this morning. Then she was still.

I stayed sitting up, staring into the dark, digging at the skin again where it was flaming.

That dog was terrible, wasn't it? Her voice was drowsy and distant now, muffled by the pillow. I thought it was going to bite Michael. I really did. That stupid man. I wanted to kill him.

I could hear her breathing when she wasn't speaking. It seemed to come straight from the back of her throat, like every breath was a sigh.

Jen, I said.

What?

I was talking to Christine in the church. Is it right that he used to take you all around the country visiting churches when you were small? I mean when you were all together, as a family.

She thought about it for a moment, then snorted. No.
That's nonsense. Why on earth would she tell you that?

I knew I had to carry on then. She told me something else, too. She said your father committed suicide. When she was looking after him, after the last heart attack.

For a few seconds the breathing went on the same as before. Then there was silence.

Did you know? I went on. Is it true?

She lay still for quite a while, and I stayed sitting upright, staring at the red digital numbers on her clock radio. I watched the colon between the hours and minutes blinking with every second. I felt dizzy, and vaguely frightened.

I don't know, she said at last. But she had no right to talk to you about it, without me there. And you had no right to let her. She blamed me, didn't she?

I put my hand out and stroked her shoulder but she tensed and kept her back to me.

Don't bother answering, she said flatly, still speaking into her pillow. I know she did. I know. Oh Christ. She made a strange sound in the back of her throat and I realised she was biting back sobs. I can't believe you're doing this to me, she said, recovering her breath. You remind me of him sometimes, she said heavily. The way he was before he turned so religious and strange. I read once that it can happen like that. You can keep falling for your father, even when you hated him. Maybe especially when you hated him. She took a deep breath and choked another sob back. And you remind me of her.

I don't know how long we lay there then, not moving, hardly breathing, even. I had no idea what she meant, and was lost in thought, puzzling over it, for what seemed like a long, black time. But then there was a noise from
Christine's room, just a faint judder as something, maybe a naked foot, moved on the floorboards, and immediately I was aware of everything around me again, and was straining to listen. A faint line of light showed under the door. She was still awake, maybe reading; or listening, like me. Jenny was shivering, I realised, though to me the air was uncomfortably warm. I shifted closer, edging my skin against hers. There was another sound from behind Christine's door, a softer, scraping noise this time. Maybe she'd pulled something – a book maybe – over the floor towards her, or pushed it away.

Jenny, I said softly.

What?

I moved my hand down along her arm, onto her hipbone, prominent and smooth, then around and between her thighs. She turned her head towards me a fraction so I leaned closer and kissed her cheek, her neck, the lobe of her ear.

Luke, she said sadly, but I didn't know what she meant by it.

I must have slept at some point because the next thing I remember is waking to the sound of the apartment door clicking open and shut. I was still flat on my back on top of the covers but Jenny was beside me now, curled under the sheets, her back to me. At first I wondered if I'd dreamed the sound but when I raised my head to check Christine's door I could see it was just ajar. Maybe she'd opened it in the night as we slept, or maybe the draught from the main door had nudged it off the catch. I let my head drop to the pillow again and waited for the sound of her returning. I wondered if Jenny was awake too. Her breathing was
shallow, which made me unsure, but it was steady and slow enough. Upstairs the flush hissed faintly and I angled my face towards the main door again, waiting to watch her stepping through it.

It was well in to the morning when I woke. Behind the door – closed tight again now – I could hear Jenny's muffled voice, then Christine's. I got out of bed, dressed quickly and went through to join them. They were both dressed and standing at the window, Michael in Jen's arms. The window was open and through it I could smell the sea and hear the steady chop of helicopter blades. Because of the noise neither of them noticed me behind them until I was almost at their shoulders, then Jenny caught sight of me and moved aside without saying anything.

About half a mile out from the beach a yellow rescue helicopter was thumping over the water. It hovered for a while then swung out slowly toward the headland. I imagined Christine swimming out there just a few hours before: the speck of her head making its way almost invisibly amongst the dark crests and swells.

I'm going to the shop, Christine said. Do you want me to get anything in particular?

No, said Jenny. Just bread and milk.