A Poison Tree (Time, Blood and Karma Book 3) (19 page)

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Anna?”

“Do you have a better one?” Her eyes suddenly seemed very big.

I
bent forward and kissed her on the lips.

We looked at each other.

“Would you mind doing that again?” she said.

She
pulled my mouth to hers, then looked at me anxiously. “This is not a revenge fuck, is it, David?”

“You never use the word, ‘fuck’.”

“I might use it tonight. Several times, if you like.”

“No it’s not a revenge fuck, I promise.”

“For me neither. Now stop talking, David, and undress me.”

Desire is a chameleon.

He blends into the brickwork and the rocks of those lanes and pathways down which we walk. He lurks like a highwayman at the crossroads of our lives, waiting to rob us of our reason.

And he does so for sport.

He lies on the rooftops of our imagination, armed with a high-powered rifle.

Desire is a tireless hunter.

He plants seeds of mephitic longing in our minds; seeds that germinate, take root and put out branches of madness to infect and torment
us.

He is a poison tree.

His words whisper to us in that place between sleep and waking, when we are at our most vulnerable. He chases ambulances, frequents emotional train-wrecks. He sits in the empty chair and attends lovingly to his business.

Having cast off his cherubic shape, he appears in a new Bacchanalian form, pouring the wine of lust down our all-too-eager throats.

He can walk through walls, travel down cables and reach out from the phrases of a letter or the bright glow of a computer screen.

His arguments carry n
either sense nor logic, and they do not need to. They speak to something primeval within us, transform us into animals baying at the moon. We have no defence.

He is the unexpected guest, the friend we once knew, the stranger, the casual acquaintance.

He is all this and more.

He never rests.

And, under his remorseless gaze, neither do we.

27

ADELE

Adele had taken an instant liking to Rosie Fletcher.

The pair of them
stood outside the back porch of the vicarage, puffing cigarettes like a couple of naughty schoolgirls, while Simon amused the churchgoers inside with tea and Biblical anecdotes. The day was grey and cold and more rain was expected.

Simon’s sister
, who was in Leicester for a few days, wore an eccentric outfit that put Adele in mind of a loopy psychic she had seen on television. Her sweater looked like it had been knitted by someone with their mind only half on the job. Her wrists were covered in beads and bangles and her curly hair had a life of its own. No makeup, no bra and no concern with what anyone thought of her. Adele had seen Eleanor struggling to find the right things to say to the vicar’s sibling.

Eleanor was accompanied that morning by her daughter, Ruth, who,
in Adele’s opinion, looked like trouble. Ruth’s sensible attire did little to counter the impression that there was something slutty about her, although Adele could appreciate the irony of her view on that subject.

She hoped nobody in the vicar’s front room
would demonstrate the same level of curiosity that she had with her brother. If a parishioner opened the bag she had left beside the coffee table, the contents for sure would convince them that sin had assumed human form and was attending services at St. Mark’s.

When Rosie suggested a smoke outside –
after announcing she had been ‘good enough’ for one Sunday – Adele had grabbed the opportunity to escape the stifling atmosphere for a few minutes. Half the attendees at that morning’s ceremony had joined them for tea, and Adele had the uncomfortable feeling it was because they wanted to see how Simon and she behaved with each other. She had witnessed knowing looks exchanged. Paradoxically, Adele felt more relaxed in the company of Rosie, in spite of the fact that they had only just met, although Rosie’s first words on the porch discomfited her somewhat.

“I think my brother’s a little in love with you.”

Adele coughed.

“Whoops,” Rosie laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to choke you.”

“I need prior warning if you’re going to make statements like that.”

“Apologies.” Rosie took a deep drag on her cigarette and blew out the smoke. “He does talk about you rather a lot, though.”

“Oh?” Adele had no idea how to respond.

“It’s all right. I’m not here to check you out.”

“That’s a relief.”

Rosie removed a
flake of tobacco from her tongue before saying, “Did Simon tell you I’m an atheist?”

“He did mention it, yes. Did he tell you I’m one too?”

“Not in as many words. It was good to see someone else in church this morning that looked as out of place as me. I assume as you didn’t take communion you haven’t been confirmed either?”

“You assume right. I only go to church in the hope I’ll get a glimpse of Simon’s butt.”

“Simon does have a nice butt.”

The two women caught each other’s eye and giggled.

“So what do you do, Rosie?”

“Anything that enables me to save money to indulge in my real love, which is travelling. I’d rather have a plane ticket than a man any day.
I don’t want kids and I’m too young to be a cat lady. I also sponge off my parents quite a bit, if I’m being truthful.”

They smoked for a while in silence. Then Rosie said, “
Simon told me you work at one of the supermarkets in the city centre, I think?”

“That’s correct. For this week, anyway. I’m looking for a new job.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, but not by choice. On Friday the supermarket manager told me he was going to have to let me go. They are ‘redoing the rotas’, and employing less full-timers, more part-timers. What they are really doing is
taking on students. They can pay them shit hourly rates. The manager offered to keep me on part-time, but of course there would be a reduction in my hourly take-home pay. I told him to stuff it. I’m currently on four weeks’ notice.”

“Can they do that?”

“They’ve done it.”

“What will you do?”

“God knows.”

“You should ask Simon to have a word with the Almighty, and get Him to reveal His greater purpose for you.”

“I’d rather Simon asked Him to smite the supermarket manager. God used to be big on smiting, but He doesn’t seem to do it much these days.”

“Do you want another cigarette?”

“We shouldn’t, should we?”

“No. But I’m having one anyway.”

“Go on, then.”

They lit up.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” asked Adele, with a glance behind her.

“I know what they’d like to be talking about.”

“What?”

“You, my dear.”

“Can we change the subject, Rosie?”

Rosie winked. “Of course. Listen, would you like to meet up in town for a bite to eat later? Much as I love my brother, I can only st
omach one portion of God per day.”

“I can’t, I’m afraid. I’m busy today. But tomorrow evening, maybe, if you’re still here?”

“That would be nice.”

They exchanged numbers.

“You know, it’s a funny thing with brothers and sisters.”

“What is?”

“Well, my brother came to visit me recently, and we spent very little time together. You come to stay with Simon and you can’t wait to get away either.”

Rosie chuckled. “I know.
I love Simon, but we don’t have a lot in common.”

“Neither do Ross and
I.”

Except
for the fact we both have secrets. We have that in common. In spades.

“I much prefer the company of women to men,
” Rosie said, before adding, “but not in
that
way. I won’t come on to you, I promise. At least not on our first date.”

Two of the rooms at the Gold Club had been redecorated. The whole building smelled of wet paint.

“It is part of our commitment to the ongoing upgrading of our establishment,” M
iss Connie informed everyone. She felt sure the regular clientele would understand and put up with the temporary inconvenience.

While Nina moaned that she had put on a few pounds (“A chubby dominatrix with cellulite is not the look I’m aiming for”), and
Leona berated exam invigilators for no obvious reason, Adele speculated.

W
hat did these other girls at the club think about while they were servicing their customers? What they were having for dinner? Where they would go on holiday this year? How long before this guy finishes and I can have a cup of tea?

She doubted whether matters of religion featured, even if they were wearing a nun’s costume at the time. In spite of her best efforts she found herself wondering what
Simon would be like in bed. Adele was not one given to either flights of romantic fancy or exotic sexual fantasies. She was too wise to the ways of the world for that. Her adolescent years had squashed any unrealistic notions about love or escaping the grind of daily life by swallowing the placebo of carnality. Indeed, she always had to wear her poker face whenever a client asked for anything unusual, lest she make them both feel ridiculous. Fortunately, that didn’t happen too often.

Adele also fretted about a remark made by Rosie Fletcher
– her suspicion that Simon might be regretting his choice of career. It was not that he had lost his faith, she explained, just that perhaps he wasn’t cut out for the priesthood as a vocation. Adele was not sure how to deal with this information. She did not want to be a contributing factor in any decision on this point. That was not a responsibility she was ready for.

S
he told herself she was not that important to the vicar of St. Mark’s. Surely not. He was looking for a friend with whom to assuage his obvious loneliness, someone as lonely as himself. Adele Darrow fitted that bill all right.

It was a source of some puzzlement to her why the members of his flock could not sense his underlying unhappiness. Perhaps they only saw what they wanted to see: a priest, a bedrock for their faith. What Adele saw was a man.

“Oh, Jamie,” Adele said to the photograph on her fridge, “what’s your mamma going to do, eh?”

Initial queries to shops around the city centre
indicated jobs were in short supply. Adele could not afford to be out of work, and she recoiled at the idea of asking her half-brother for money. It was not that Ross would refuse her, or even make her feel bad about it. It was more that recent events had made her question just how ‘dirty’ his money was.

Ross’ visit had been brief,
a mere four days, and she had only seen him on two occasions. On his third day, he had called her late in the evening from what sounded like a motorway service area, judging from the background noise of cars travelling at speed. He had not said where he was, but cited an unavoidable business meeting as the reason for his standing her up for dinner. They did eat together at Adele’s flat the following evening and then Ross was gone, heading north to Glasgow in his hire car. Or so he told her.

When Adele spoke to her mother on the phone a few days later, it seemed Ross had a ‘missing’ day between the time he left Leicester and the time he arrived in Glasgow. That did not necessarily imply anything untoward, and there was always the possibility that
Flora Darrow’s drink-addled memory was playing tricks on her.

Adele said nothing to Ross about the gun she had found in his belongings, even though it
preyed on her mind. What was the point? He wouldn’t tell her the truth about it anyway. And supposing he did confess to her the reason for carrying what she was convinced was an illegal firearm? It was unlikely to be a palatable revelation. Knowing might be worse than remaining ignorant.

Limited though it was, Adele’s relationship with Ross was important to her, and she was fond of him. It wasn’t as though she had an extensive support network to fall back
on, either. Yet she was fearful of being drawn into any criminal sphere. It was bad enough that she was working in the sex industry. Adele had to attain a position of financial stability and, at least, apparent respectability, if she was ever to have any chance of wresting her son Jamie from the tenacious grip of the Social Services.

If her brother was a criminal, Adele could not afford the
added burden of guilt by association.

Leona
shook her shoulder. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” she said. “You’ve got a customer. And it isn’t Prince Charming.”

28

DAVID

I dreamed I was walking barefoot along an exotic beach, somewhere in the tropics. The sun was low in the sky and the coconut trees at the edge of the sand cast long shadows. The beach was deserted apart from a couple of dogs and a figure in the distance at the water’s edge. As I made my way closer, I could discern the figure was a woman with long red hair. Claire. She was unmoving, gazing at the setting sun.

A slight wind blew in from the sea, masking the sound of my approach. I tapped her on the shoulder and she turned.
It wasn’t Claire.

It was Anna.

“Surprised to see me?” she said.

The sound of a kettle boiling woke me. Anna was spooning coffee into two cups. She was dressed in one of the hotel robes. Our clothes still lay scattered over the floor. She pushed back her hair and saw me watching her.

“Hello.” Her voice was quiet. “I was just making you a drink.”

“What time is it?”

“Around seven.”

“It’s early. Come back to bed.” 

She padded back and climbed under the covers. I undid the loosely-tied belt and slid the robe off her shoulders. She ran her tongue over her lips.

“I want you again,” I said.

There was a sharp intake of breath and her cheeks coloured. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I
was worried perhaps this morning, you’d feel differently about me.”

I kissed her breasts.  “No.”

I held her head, my fingers grasping her fiery hair, and pulled her mouth to mine. Anna moaned softly and swung herself over me.

“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed, “
you’re hard already.”

She
touched my face with her palm and scrutinised me. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“When we made love last night, did you make love to me or to Claire? In the dark, whose face did you see?”

“Yours. As I see your face now.”

“Good. I’m happy about that.”

Afterwards she lay with her head on my shoulder, her left hand stroking my chest. The intensity of our climaxes had surprised us both.

“I suppose we need to talk about this, David,” she whispered.

“I suppose we do.”

”I know you would never have slept with me if Claire wasn’t having an affair. You’re not that sort of man.”

“I don’t want you to think –”

She put her hand to my lips. “
Ssshh. Just listen, OK? I need to say something to you.”

I kissed her fingers. “OK.”

“Last week, Max and I made love. If you can call it that. It was the first time for a while. I lay there while he grunted over me, wondering who it was he imagined himself with. Afterwards he said it was like fucking a dead fish.”

“Jesus.”

“No, he was right. I was beginning to suspect I’d become frigid. Maybe that’s why he was going with other women.” She propped herself up on one elbow and put her face close to mine.

“That’s why I will never regret this. I feel like a person again
, like someone can love me.”

I started to speak, but she shook her head. “I know this is all wrong, making love to my sister’s husband, but you see – from my side anyway – this has been coming for some time.
Sorry, but there it is. I might as well be honest, even if it makes me a bad person.”

“You’re not a bad person.”

“Well.” She shrugged. “It’s too late now, anyway.”

“I had no idea, Anna.”

“I’ve been thinking what it might have been like between us if you’d never met Claire. Am I scaring you?”

“No.”

Anna ran her finger across my breastbone. “Maybe we should both get divorced and marry each other. It’s legal, you know, to marry your sister-in-law.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Actually, it’s been legal since 1907 to marry your dead wife’s sister. In England, anyway.”

“How do you know that?”

“Don’t panic, I didn’t look it up specially. It’s in a manuscript I’m editing. Apparently, making it legal was a
cause célèbre
during the Victorian era. Lots of Bills introduced in Parliament. I wasn’t suggesting you do away with Claire, by the way. Sorry, I’m rambling. I was trying to be funny, but this is most inappropriate and not funny at all. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t. You’ve never made me uncomfortable.”

“I’m not going to tell you I’m in love with you, or anything like that.”

I
grasped her hand. “Anna, it’s all right. This is
me
, remember?”

“You know we can never do this again,
” Anna put her head back on my shoulder. “David?”

I didn’t respond.

“It would all just be too messy and awful to imagine. That’s the only reason. It’s not because I don’t want to. Because I do.”

I tried to come up with something to say.
Words that would reassure her. Words that might reassure me. But my mind was a blank. The actuality of our betrayal was too much to grasp. I couldn’t take it in.

The worst part was, I didn’t
feel
like I’d done anything wrong. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. Shouldn’t I be consumed with remorse, with self-loathing? Why was there no shame?

I was stretched out naked
on that hotel bed with the sister-in-law I had known as a friend for twenty years, and I realised for the first time how much I felt for her. Not friendship. Not love. Something else. Something that had no label, but which was a big part of my life.

We lay in each other’s arms, silent, for I don’t know how long.
Then Anna said, “Will we be able to meet for lunch like we did before?”

I turned
my head towards her. Her eyes were wet and there were trails of tears on her face. She hadn’t sobbed. Her despair had instead seeped noiselessly from her eyes. I wiped the tears away. “Of course,” I said as gently as I could.

“It will never be the same, though, will it?”

“It will be how we want it to be.”

“I should take the job in London. Then I won’t be under your feet.”

“You shouldn’t take the job for that reason.”

“Well, it also occurred to me that if I was here,
and you came down for the rugby at Twickenham, you could stay with me. “ She looked solemn. “Yes,” she said with a catch in her voice, “that’s how crazy I am, David.”

Anna and I took the same train back to Leicester.

The carriage was almost full, in contrast to my journey down to London. I
attempted to read my Nick Hornby novel while Anna worked her way through some author’s draft, annotating it with a red pen. Now and then I detected a faraway look in her eyes, but for the most part she appeared calm, contented and focused on her editing.

Strange to tell, but I felt happy. Perhaps it reflected something lacking in my moral character, that I could make love
to Anna and experience no embarrassment or unease about what had occurred. She was still just Anna. Except she wasn’t. Whatever might come of this, our relationship was forever changed. Images of my undressing her and holding her floated through my head. When she put her pen in her mouth, a studious expression across her face, I had a strong urge to reach forward and grasp her arm. Underneath the table, my legs rested against hers, and neither of us felt the need to move them. We were comfortable together.

While
pretending to read, I studied her. Anna’s red hair lay soft against the whiteness of her neck. I had forgotten how graceful and angelic she could look at times. In some ways she was so much like Claire, and in other ways so different. If the carriage had been empty, I would have sat beside her and kissed her neck. I wouldn’t have been able to help myself.

She caught me looking at her a few times, and each time she treated me to a
bashful grin. On the third occasion, she moved her leg against mine before turning her attention back to her papers.

“Can we meet for lunch this week?” I said, as the train approached Leicester station.

“I’d like that.”

“Maybe somewhere out of town?”

“Just tell me where and when.”

“How about Friday? I have to drive over to Coventry. We could maybe meet at a country pub?”

“A quiet one?”

“Yes.”

As we were leaving the station, my phone rang and I indicated for Anna to wait a moment.

“Hello, David.” It was Jim Fosse.

“What do you want, Jim?” I turned away from Anna.

“I’m just calling to say thank you.”

“For what?”

There was a laugh at the other end of the phone. “I must confess, I had my doubts whether you were my man, but I’m happy that you came through for me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glanced at Anna. She could see from my expression that something was wrong.

“Have it your own way,” said the
annoying voice. “I’ve just got home from the police station, where they questioned me about my wife’s disappearance.”

“Monique has disappeared?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t.”

“In any event, I just wanted to say don’t worry. I won’t forget my end of the bargain. I have to go away again this week, but as soon as I’m back, I’ll take care of business. You’ll be a free man soon enough.” Jim cut the line.

I tried to ring him back, but he had switched off his phone.

Anna moved closer to me. “What’s wrong? Is it Claire?”

“No. It’s a stupid situation I’ve got myself into with a man called Fosse.”

Anna looked puzzled. “Jim Fosse?”

I felt my heart racing. “You know him?”

“No, I don’t know him personally, but Max works with his wife Monique. We were supposed to go to a dinner party at their house a couple of weeks ago, but at the last minute Max said he was too busy.”

“A dinner party
at the Fosses’?” I stared at her. “Anna, it’s important you and I meet on Friday, if not before.”

“It’s something bad, isn’t it, David? I can see by the look on your face.”

“Yes. But we can’t talk here.”

“Call me.”

We gave each other a hug and a chaste kiss on both cheeks before we parted.

I needed to think fast.

I had a couple of hours with Claire before I went out again to see the Italy vs Tonga match at Welford Road, and I needed to appear
‘normal’. Or as normal as it is possible to be knowing your wife’s life might be in danger and that you’ve just slept with her sister.

“How was the rugby?” asked Claire.

“Great match, even though we lost.” I feigned enthusiasm.

“Did you meet Anna for dinner?”

“We just grabbed a pizza. It was a bit late by the time I got back into London.”

“Did you talk about books?”

“We always talk about books.”

“Just as well I wasn’t there then.”

I switched on the television and watched the local news. There was no mention of Monique Fosse.

Was Monique really dead? Did Jim seriously think I’d killed her while he was abroad and then hidden her body?

The whole thing was implausible, insane.

Why had
Fosse invited Max and Anna to dinner? Just to torture Max and Monique a little? To let them know he knew?

None of this made any sense. Jim Fosse didn’t make any sense.
My mind was buzzing with questions.

I tried
Jim’s phone again, several times. It was still switched off.

If Claire was in danger, I had to
do
something.

Then something else occurred to me, quite aside f
rom my concern for my wife.

I had apparent motive to kill
Claire. She was having an affair, and so was I. At least that’s how the police would see it if the facts ever came out.

I drove into
the city and parked. While I walked to the ground, I smoked a cigarette and called my old school friend, cursing myself I hadn’t done it months before. Leicester wasn’t his patch, but he would have friends in the Leicester police force. I told him I needed his help, that it was urgent, but that I couldn’t talk about it over the phone. He agreed to drive down from Sheffield and meet me the following evening.

Ian
Kenney was waiting for me at Welford Road and we went into the match together. He had taken a rare evening off from depressing the customers at the Bell to depress me instead. In truth, I was glad it was Ian. He didn’t talk much and I didn’t want to talk. We watched Tonga beat Italy, then filed out.

I became aware he had been saying something to me.