The Revelations (8 page)

Later, as the sun sank slowly over the trees that blocked the grey council high-rises of Derby, Mouse and Marcus stood on the putting green smoking. The hours had raced by, aided by gin-and-tonics and the champagne that Marcus’s mother had paid for.

‘I can’t quite believe you’ve done it,’ said Mouse.

‘There were a couple of times when I thought I might not make it. You were an excellent best man. To tell you the truth, today has been one long panic attack for me.’

They stood and watched the sun disappear.

‘Abby looked grand.’

‘Yes, she did. I was proud to be marrying her.’

‘She’s not like her family. You know that, don’t you, sport?’

‘Of course.’

‘You know what it made me think of, standing there with you today?’

‘What?’

‘It reminded me of when we’d go to listen to Abby sing in the choir at university. It occurred to me today how none of her family ever came along. If I had a child who had that kind of talent I’d want to be there for every performance, you know? It’s strange that neither of her parents came to hear her, even for Christmas carols.’

‘Mmm. I don’t think any of them really like her very much. It’s funny, we spent a lot of time in church back then. I mean, given that it was before the Course. I suppose I must have gone at least once a week all the way through university.’

Mouse took a drag on his cigarette and turned to Marcus with serious eyes.

‘I wonder sometimes if those days laid the foundations of our faith. Even though we were drunk or stoned some of the time – most of the time – and even though I never listened to the words really, it did give us an appreciation for that kind of beauty, set in our minds the idea that there was something better, purer, than the life we were leading.’

They stubbed out their cigarettes and made their way into the marquee. Dinner had finished and it was time for the first dance. Toddlers were strewn like obstacles across the dance floor; blitzed on ice cream and wedding cake, they screamed and stamped and roared. ‘Love Cats’ began to play, and Marcus bashfully held out his hand to Abby, who took it and allowed herself to be guided to a clear space of dance floor. Marcus was a bad dancer. It didn’t help that he and Abby were more or less the same height. Neither of them seemed able to decide who would lead. His feet grew independently shy of the rest of his body, curled themselves up bashfully when called upon, tried to hide under the hem of Abby’s dress. She was drunk and threw herself gamely into the dancing, but her enthusiasm merely served to highlight Marcus’s own awkwardness. Finally, as the song jittered towards its end, Marcus felt a hand on his waist and Mouse stepped in to dance with Abby.

Even though Mouse was much smaller than Marcus, he seemed to be able to reach above Abby, to harness her energy and turn the two of them into a swirling image of graceful recklessness. Marcus felt a small shot of jealousy as he watched them. Abby let out howls of delight and continued to dance wildly with Mouse as the next song came in and others stepped onto the dance floor to join them. Lee was slow-
dancing
with Daffy even though it was an upbeat number. Marcus could see Daffy’s thigh working itself slowly between her legs. Course dads danced with their children, who, having worked off their sugar rushes, now nuzzled sleepy chocolate-stained faces into their fathers’ crisp white collars. David and Sally Nightingale jitterbugged together, eyes locked, revelling in the weight of shared history conferred by the vintage of their perfectly synchronised dancing. Marcus stood holding his glass of champagne until his sister came and dragged him onto the dance floor, her small white face turned up lovingly to his as they danced.

Much later, Mouse and Marcus were again out on the putting green smoking. One of Abby’s cousins was sleeping on the first tee behind them. Mouse had grabbed the last two bottles of champagne as they made their way out of the marquee. He passed one to Lee and Abby, who were in drunken conversation at a table in the corner, and opened the other as they strode across the squares of light thrown from the hotel windows onto the wide lawn. Marcus had found a golf ball in the bushes and dribbled it from one side of the putting green to the other, finally punting the ball as far as he could into the distance, hopping and holding his foot in pain as the white ball flew off into the black night.

‘Did you see Lee kissing Daffy?’ Mouse asked.

‘Was it a kiss? I wouldn’t really call it a kiss.’

‘It was a kiss. Nightingale saw her. I was watching him.’

‘Poor Lee. You mustn’t think badly of her for it.’

‘I thought she was better. She seemed almost like her old self the past few weeks.’

There was the sound of breaking glass from inside the marquee. Marcus saw that Mouse was looking at him intently.

‘I thought you did well today. I can tell you now that I was worried beforehand. You’ve been acting strangely for the past few weeks. And you seemed so nervous in the church.’

‘I was nervous. I still am, I suppose.’

‘I had taken a few wee precautions.’ Smiling, Mouse reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a white cylinder. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger and then brought it up to his nose, inhaling deeply.

‘Is that a joint?’ Marcus was laughing.

‘Just, as I say, a precaution. I thought about smoking it with you before we went into the church. Then I thought you might want it to get you through the reception. But you didn’t need it. Seems a bit of a waste now.’ He looked at the joint and then up at Marcus.

‘Oh, come on, let’s smoke it. For old times’ sake.’ Marcus reached into his pocket for a lighter and then looked back at the marquee. ‘I just can’t let Abby see me. I promised her I wouldn’t do drugs again once we were married. It would look bad if she caught me the day of our wedding.’

They walked into the shadow of the hotel, skirting flower beds and balconies. Mouse led the way while Marcus followed, stopping occasionally to sip from the champagne bottle. They came to the low square bulk of the sports complex. A door stood open, emitting a faint blue light, the smell of chlorine. The swimming pool was lit from beneath, white lights shining upwards through the water, the gently rippling surface dappling the roof. Marcus imagined that they were in a cave, that the fake rubber trees in the corner were ferns, the pipes hanging from the ceiling stalactites. In one corner of the hall there was a sauna, pale wood bleached almost white. Mouse stepped inside.

‘There won’t be a fire alarm in here. Close the door.’

Marcus stepped into the small room that smelt of pencil wood and sweat. It was warmer than the rest of the hall. He pulled the glass door shut behind him and looked through it to the pool, whose surface was now quite still. He sat down on the lower of the two benches that lined the back wall. Mouse was perched above him and reached down for the cigarette lighter. It was almost entirely dark inside the sauna and the sudden flaming of the lighter hurt Marcus’s eyes. Soon the small room was filled with the warm, woody smell of dope.

After a while, Marcus stood up to clear his head. A smile was strung out across his face. Mouse was leaning back against the wooden wall, his eyes closed, the last of the joint burning down between his fingers. Marcus retrieved the stub, took a long drag and then extinguished it in the dregs of the champagne bottle.

‘I’m going to miss that,’ he said, his words coming out very slowly.

‘I’m going to miss you.’ Mouse’s voice was suddenly very serious and Marcus felt the smile fade from his lips. He could only just make out his friend in the darkness and sat clumsily down beside him. He put an arm around Mouse’s shoulders and tried to find words suitable for the moment.

‘You’re a good friend. The best I’ve got.’

There was a noise in the pool outside. Marcus lifted his arm from around Mouse and crossed to the glass door of the sauna. In the dim blue glow of the pool, he could see someone swimming. The long white body barely ruffled the water as it moved through it. A length underwater, then a length of graceful breaststroke, then a fluid and powerful crawl.

‘Mouse, come and look.’

Mouse rose and pressed himself alongside his friend.

‘It’s Lee,’ he said.

The swimmer moved to the steps at the edge of the pool and rose slowly from the water. It was the dimmest corner of the pool, but Marcus could see that Mouse was right. Water fell from Lee’s skinny naked body as she walked along the tiles beside the pool. Standing for a moment, her arms raised up, stretching her skin tightly over accordion ribs, nipples flattening across high breasts, she took a deep breath and dived back in. In a strange way, Marcus thought she seemed to know that she was being watched. She deliberately swam over the underwater lights so that her body was a dark silhouette, barely bulging at the buttocks, moving quickly as her legs began to froth the water. She was pushing herself faster and faster, as if racing against herself or attempting to work out some
hidden
rage. Finally, she stopped in the shallow end, standing up in the corner nearest to where Marcus and Mouse were watching her. The water lapped just below her waist; the dip of each wave revealed the small damp tangle of her pussy. She stretched her arms up again and then lay back in the water, her hips pushed upwards, her legs and arms gently paddling to keep her afloat.

Marcus had been so focused on Lee, on trying to sear the image of her onto his mind, that he hadn’t noticed Mouse. Half-turned away from him, his face pressed to the glass, Mouse’s body trembled every so often. One of Mouse’s hands had disappeared into the front of his grey trousers. Marcus was about to say something, but then Lee began to swim again, this time backstroke. She swam slowly, her white body held high, the water cascading over her stomach and chest. Marcus, ignoring his embarrassment, unzipped his flies and drew out his cock. He saw Mouse look over at him, and could just make out an encouraging smile on his friend’s lips. With their faces close together, looking out through the glass and breathing heavily, they lost themselves in the image of the girl cutting through the water. Marcus came first, shooting out a white gobbet that landed with a splut on the glass door. Mouse followed almost immediately afterwards, letting out a half-sigh as he pulled himself off. Marcus watched his friend’s face twist and then relax in the dim light. They were both panting, their breath steaming the glass. Marcus reached down to zip his flies.

As if she knew exactly what was going on inside the sauna, Lee swam to the edge of the pool and lifted herself out. She took a towel from a pile lying on a deckchair, dried herself slowly and then pulled on the bridesmaid’s dress that was hanging over the arm of the chair. Marcus and Mouse smoked a cigarette together, wanting to allow some time before leaving the building. When the cigarette had burned down to a stub, they made their way quietly back to the marquee.

Marcus kept the image of Lee in his mind throughout his honeymoon. She must have gone to bed immediately after her swim, because he didn’t see her again before he and Abby were whisked off to the bridal suite and then, early the next morning, to Gatwick. And when they made love on the starched white sheets of their Corsican chalet, when they swam naked together in the hidden coves around Propriano, when Abby lay back for him in a hollow on a wooded headland outside Bonifacio, Marcus felt that they were somehow paying homage to Lee. As if they were pursuing an ideal that she had created during her midnight swim.

Marcus jumped. Someone had come into his office. He had an erection and he realised that he had fallen asleep. It was still raining; the drops were racing down the glass. Whoever was behind him cleared his throat again. Marcus swung his chair around. Michael Faraday, one of the senior partners, was standing with his eyebrows raised and his hands in his
pockets
.

‘Michael, good to see you,’ Marcus babbled. ‘I was just thinking about the Crystal Capital situation. Well, actually that’s a lie. I had been thinking about Crystal Capital but then I started thinking about rain, and why we don’t hear about acid rain any more. Whether it’s because it isn’t a problem any more, or if it’s because we have much bigger ecological things to worry about now.’

Marcus shimmered his most winning smile at the grey-haired partner.

‘No idea. Don’t give a fuck either. I want you to drop Crystal and come with me. I’ve a case I think will really grab you. Fascinating business and needs your brain on it. A Chinese bank is trying to sue Plantagenet Partners. It’s going to be a massive job. Hope you’re not busy over the next few weeks. I’m going to need you to run through walls on this one. Most complicated buggeration of a case I’ve seen.’

Marcus tried to adjust his cock under the desk, stood awkwardly, and followed the partner out. They walked down the corridor together.

‘The first thing you should know is that the Chinese have a bloody strong case. You’re going to need to be pretty tricksy on this one. I’ve already made sure that the boys at Plantagenet have got rid of all the records relating to the transaction that they don’t absolutely have to keep. You might want to encourage them to lose a few more. Software issues, or something. This case will teach you that being a good lawyer means always being one step ahead of the law. Hope I’m making myself clear . . .’

Marcus was late for the Course that night. He had slipped away as soon as Faraday went to buy his dinner, but the Tube chuntered slowly, pausing ominously with flickering lights between stations. When he finally arrived at Sloane Square, he ran flat out down the middle of the King’s Road. He came to the familiar black railings and sprinted up the gravel driveway and into the church. David’s voice was very low, very intense, and stopped Marcus as he slipped inside the heavy wooden door.

‘Hopefully some of you will have felt something when we prayed at the end of the last session. If you didn’t feel anything, then don’t worry. It happens at different speeds and with different intensities for different people. But just keep on praying, keep on asking God to come into your life. And he will come. I remember a Course member several years back who
approached
me on the final day of the Course. He said that he had been asking God to come in and was beginning to despair when he sat in the church silently after one Tuesday-night session. And what he realised, he told me, was that God had been there all along, that he simply needed to open his mind a little more to see that.’