Fine Lines - SA (31 page)

I relaxed for the first time that evening. I looked around the room.

It was dim, a fabric blind covering the single window. A chair waited by the wal . Next to it was a low table on which stood a glass, a jug of water, and a bottle of brandy. There was also a smal pencil-light, and an object I did not at first recognise. I moved nearer and saw it was a wide-necked cardboard bottle, the sort used by hospital patients to relieve themselves. I was impressed by Zeppo's foresight. That was something I had not considered But then I saw the note underneath it.

"You can use this for whatever you want. The tissues are on the dressing table." When I realised what he meant I put the bottle down again, angrily.

I sat in the chair and examined the wal in front of me. There was a hole in it, several inches deep and large enough to accommodate my head when I leaned forward. It exposed a thin skin of plaster and wooden slats, and in this another, smal er hole had been made. It looked like a miniature letterbox. I peered through it, but could make out little in the failing light.

Satisfied that everything was as it should be, I sat back in the chair and poured myself a smal brandy.

So far, except for my earlier bout of nerves, it had al gone as planned. The telephone cal had come as Zeppo had promised. He had ordered an alarm cal from the operator for some point during the evening, but refused to tel me when. "You'l only be counting down if I do. It'l seem more natural if you don't know when to expect it." It had also been his idea to use a fictitious rather than real friend. "If you're going to lie, make sure you can't be found out," he had said. I had bowed to his experience.

I looked at my watch, straining to read its face. Only a few minutes had passed, but the room was already noticeably darker. The window gave out on to the rear garden, where no streetlight would brighten it.

Restless, I crossed over to the door and listened again. Anna and Zeppo's voices were just audible, but I could make out nothing of what they were saying. I hesitated, and then opened the door an inch.

Immediately, I felt a sudden surge of deja vu. Unbalanced, I tried to shake it, but the feeling remained. For a moment I felt on the verge of identifying it. Then the sensation had passed. Disregarding it, I concentrated on listening to the voices in the other room.

'.. . of mine. But he came home while they were stil in the house," I heard Zeppo say.

"Oh no!"

"Yeah, but Alex lives in a world of his own, and went straight to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. So, like an idiot, he sat there sipping his Nescafe, while the rest of his house was looted!" I heard Anna laugh. "You're joking!"

"No, honestly. I saw him the next day. Apparently, he sat there for half an hour, and it was only when he went to the loo and saw that the front door was open that he began to wonder what was happening. And even then it wasn't until he noticed his TV had gone that he realised he'd been burgled."

"Didn't he hear anything?"

"Oh, yeah. He said he'd heard al these bumps and thuds, but didn't think anything to it. Just thought it was the house creaking! I told him he should either get a burglar alarm or move to a quieter house." They both laughed. Anna said something I could not catch, and I heard a chair scrape back. I tensed, ready to close the door, but then Zeppo's voice came again, fainter than before. He was in the kitchen.

I opened the door another crack, trying to make out what he was saying.

'.. . stupid. I knew I'd forgotten something." I heard what sounded like the refrigerator door opening.

"What is it?" Anna asked. "Nothing vital, I hope?"

"That depends if you cal champagne vital or not." Zeppo's voice grew louder as he spoke. "Personal y, I think it is. It completely slipped my mind. I got carried away with the cooking.

I thought we could celebrate my new job. Even if it is just for a few weeks." There was a muffled pop. "Whoa," Zeppo said. There was a pause. "Mmm, that's gorgeous," said Anna.

"Poor Donald's missed out."

"Ah, wel . We can always save him a glass. Anyway, I'd better see to that pael a. It's probably stuck to the bottom of the pan by now.

"Can I help?" I could not hear Zeppo's answer, but presumably it was affirmative, because a moment later there was the sound of another chair being pushed back, and then both their voices became indistinct.

I listened for a while longer, but apart from the occasional laughter, I could make nothing out. I closed the door and went back to my brandy.

I gave them time to return to the lounge, and then took up position by the door again. Muted noises were stil coming from the kitchen. Then a dish clattered, and I heard Zeppo suddenly exclaim, "Owl That's hot!"

"Put it under the cold tap." Anna's voice was more distinct now.

"No, it's okay. I'l be a martyr. If I pass out, cal an ambulance."

"You're very brave."

"Don't laugh. It's worse than it looks."

"It'd have to be, I can't see anything."

"I've got a low tolerance to pain." A pause. "Is that enough for now?"

"Yes, that's plenty, thanks. It looks wonderful."

"Fresh from the tin."

"If that's from a tin, tel me where you buy them from." She gave an appreciative moan. "God, this is delicious!"

"Thank you. But you can't make it yourself like it is in restaurants, can you?" They laughed, and I felt my face burn, knowing it was at my expense. My neck and back were aching, and I straightened, rubbing them. Careful not to make a noise, I carried the chair to the door and positioned it close to the gap. I sat down and leaned forward.

There was a hypnotic fascination in being able to eavesdrop on them.

Innocent and banal as their conversation was, there was an il icit delight in being able to listen from the safety of my hiding place.

Both my room and the hal way were in darkness now, and a thin band of light showed around the edge of the lounge door. I gazed at it, entranced. On the other side, Anna and Zeppo were intent on each other. I was a secret, third party to this moment of their private lives, and I gave myself up to the fantasy that neither of them were aware of my presence. I experienced a thril of sheer, sensual pleasure, and for a few heady seconds had the wild impulse to take off my clothes and listen to them naked. But of course I did no such thing. I only stared, hypnotised, at the square outline of light, engrossed in the voices that came from it.

Plates were cleared, and then Anna gave a low groan. "Oh, God, is that as gooey as it looks?"

"Even more so."

"You're evil. I'l have to diet for a month after this."

"I doubt it. You're not exactly fat, are you?"

"You haven't seen me in a bikini."

"No, but it sounds intriguing."

"Uh-uh. I'd hate to disappoint you."

"I don't think there's any danger of that."

I imagined Anna blushing in the ensuing silence. "More champagne?" Zeppo asked.

"I'd love some. Oh. Is that al there is left? We can't have drunk a whole bottle!"

"Unless there's someone under the table we must have. But don't worry.

There's another in the fridge."

"Another! You have been splashing out."

"Wel , I thought there'd be three of us."

"Don't open it just for me. I'm tipsy already."

"So am I. We can keep each other company. Anyway, if we don't drink it now it'l go off." Anna laughed, low and throaty. There was another pop, louder this time.

"Look out, it's a live one!" Beyond the bright outline, I pictured the champagne being poured, rising then settling in the glasses. I could almost taste it, feel intoxicated with them.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" There was a minute hesitation before Zeppo answered. "I should think so." A shadow of wariness was in his voice.

"Is Zeppo your real name?" Another hesitation. "No. No, my parents weren't that cruel. My surname's Marks, with a kay, so people started cal ing me Zeppo. As in the Marx Brothers.

It sort of stuck." I heard Anna giggle. "It could be worse. At least it's not Groucho, Harpo or Chico."

"Yeah, I get cal ed after the boring one nobody remembers. Perhaps people are trying to tel me something."

"You're hardly boring."

"Thank you." Neither spoke for a while. Then Anna asked, "So what is your real name?" Zeppo hesitated again. "Oh, you don't want to know that."

"Oh, I do. Come on, it can't be that bad." Anna's diction was slightly slurred. There was a muttered answer from Zeppo, too low for me to hear. I had no doubt that was what he intended. But Anna had no such compunction. She burst out laughing.

"Crispin?" she exclaimed. "No! You're joking!"

"No."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. I just can't imagine you as a Crispin!"

"Neither can I," he said, drily. "My parents were religious. They named me after a saint. Of shoemakers, would you believe? The patron saint of cobblers." Anna was convulsed. "Oh, I'm sorry," she gasped at last. "Does anyone actual y cal you Crispin?"

"No, thank God. I try not to broadcast it."

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. Does Donald know?"

"Probably."

"What about your parents? Don't they stil cal you that?"

"They don't cal me anything. They're dead." I could feel the effect his words had on Anna. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." The laughter had suddenly gone from her voice.

"It's okay. No need to apologise. It happened a long time ago, anyway. I was only a kid." He seemed to be deliberately inviting questions. I wondered what he thought he was doing.

"How old were you?" asked Anna.

"Thirteen. It was a car accident. I went to live with an aunt afterwards. I don't think she liked kids. She certainly didn't like me. I left as soon as I was old enough."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, there's just me. I used to wish I had some when I was younger. I was pretty lonely for a while. But I don't suppose I have to tel you what that's like, do I?" I listened with disbelief. I wondered if he was doing it to spite me.

"No," Anna said. Her voice was pitched very low.

"Is it stil as bad?" A smal laugh. "Bloody awful, actual y."

"I know it's different for you, with Marty being missing. But I can stil imagine what you're going through. You've just got to give it time."

"Mm. I know. That's what everyone says. But … oh wel . It doesn't matter."

"No, go on. Please." There was a brief silence. "Wel , I just … I just wish I knew what had happened to him, that's al !" Her voice rose, close to breaking. "If the police came and told me they'd found him, dead, I could cope with that a lot better than this not knowing. I know some people think he's just run off with someone, and sometimes I catch myself thinking that they might be right, that he might be stil alive somewhere. But then that only makes it worse. I know he's dead, but I don't know how, or why, or if he suffered, or … or anything. It's that I can't ..." Her voice final y broke. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I heard a chair being pushed back.

"Hey, it's okay. Come on."

"God!" She sniffed, loudly. "I'm such a sil y cow! I'm sorry. I'd better go."

"Don't be sil y."

"What a farewel party for you."

"That doesn't matter. I only used it as an excuse to see you again, anyway." She gave a shaky laugh. "I bet you wish you hadn't bothered."

"I'm glad I did."

"Thank you." Her voice was soft; calmer. "I'm al right now. Sorry for being such a crybaby."

"You're not a crybaby." There was a long pause. "I must look a mess. I'd better clean myself up."

"You look lovely." Another silence. It seemed to go on and on. Then Anna broke it.

"Zeppo, I don't.. ." That was al . I stared at the outline of light.

Anna said, "Zeppo ..." once more, so quietly I barely heard her, and then there was nothing. I waited, wondering what they were doing, hoping Zeppo had not forgotten himself. I was considering creeping out to listen more closely when the lounge door opened.

I leaned back from the crack, not daring to close my own door. I held my breath as I heard them cross the hal way and go into the room next to mine. Heart pounding, I quietly rose and made my way back to the adjoining wal , guiding myself by touch in the darkness. Hands outstretched, I felt the table and tentatively searched with my fingers for the hole in the brickwork. After a moment I found the smal er hole in the plaster. I stooped and put my eyes to it.

At first I could make nothing out. The room beyond was as dark as my own. Then there was a click and I flinched as a bar of light shone directly into my eyes. Blinking to acclimatise them, I peered through the narrow gap.

I was looking out over an enormous bed, sideways on. An imitation Tiffany lamp now provided a soft glow. Facing me was a huge mirror. It showed the wal behind which I was hidden. A stack of shelves fixed to it held plants, books and racks of cassettes and CDs. My spy hole was invisible amongst them. At the base of the bed were Anna and Zeppo.

She had her back to him. His hands were on her shoulders, stroking. He gently turned her around until she faced him, then lowered his head and softly kissed her mouth. Anna tilted her head to him, but otherwise stood passively. He kissed her again, stil gentle, a mere brushing of the lips. His hands lightly stroked up and down her back. He began to kiss her more insistently, and when her arms hesitatingly went around him, he lengthened the extent of his caress until he was stroking the uppermost curve of her buttocks. But when she began to respond, he stopped.

"Anna … I don't want you to do anything you'l regret." His voice was low, husky. "I don't want to take advantage of you."

"You aren't." And this time she drew his head down to hers, arching herself against him. His hands ran up into her hair, pul ing her head backwards by it, and then one of them went to the buttons at the back of her blouse.

One by one they came undone, revealing a deepening vee of brown skin under the white fabric. He slid his hands across her bare back, one of them sliding beneath the waistband of her skirt. She tugged his shirt from his trousers and began to unfasten it. Stil kissing him, she pul ed it off, and as she did he slipped the skirt over her hips and let it drop to the floor. It formed a pool of white around her bare legs. I stared at it. There seemed something familiar about the sight, and again I felt a faint, uncomfortable flare of deja vu. This time it brought with it an unaccountable flutter of unease. I hastily looked back to Anna and Zeppo, trying to ignore it. I wanted no distractions now.