Untouchable Things (25 page)

“I know. I think he’s the closest thing Seth’s got to family. They spend a lot of time together listening to music and stuff.”

“It’s surprising in a way. They seem so different.”

José laughed. “They are. Did you know, Charles lives in an even swankier pad than Seth but he’s so modest you’d never know it. He’s an amazing architect.”

“I’m surprised someone hasn’t snapped him up.”

“Oh, he’s far too involved with his sister to look further.”

“What?” Rebecca’s eyes expanded and José laughed.

“I don’t mean like that. I think she’s unwell in some way and Charles looks after her a lot. Get the feeling it’s a no-go subject so I’ve never really asked.”

Rebecca pondered this. “So I guess Charles won’t be at Seth’s for Christmas.” She’d been hearing about Christmas at Seth’s. Just her luck to be away.

“No it’s only for people who are avoiding their families – or who don’t have any. Me, Jake, Anna and Michael, for the first time.

She stirred her coffee. “Poor Seth. Do you – do you know how his parents died? I don’t like to ask.”

“Car crash, I think, just before university. He never talks about it, though. Never mentions them at all.”

Rebecca swallowed. “He mentioned his mother the other day.”

“Did he?”

She knew immediately from the surprise in his voice that she’d said the wrong thing. She tried to backtrack but saw the jealousy dance in his eyes like a flame. “Only in passing. He barely said anything.”

José took a sip of coffee and when he looked back at her his eyes were matt brown again. “It’s fine. I’m glad he’s talking about it.”

Did you meet up with any of the group over Christmas? Have I amused you, Miss Laurence?

No, it’s just that about the only day you get off when you do panto is Christmas Day. No time to be popping down to London and hanging out with friends. It was sweet, though, the Christmas present from Seth. Perfume in an old-fashioned stoppered bottle, like the sort on my mum’s dressing table I used to play with. It was musky, darkly floral, not my usual thing at all.

But presumably his. It sounds like you’d rather have been somewhere else, Miss Laurence.

And some.

Day after day of playing the fool, still dishing out gags when everyone else has taken down their decorations and is detoxing. And no hope of a casting director just popping into Cheltenham. Still, she was grateful of the distraction. Only a handful of hours a day left to deal with all the stuff in her head. Better to slap on the eye make-up and grin at family friends waving from the audience.

You didn’t see your boyfriend?

Ex-boyfriend. No. He was supposed to be staying for a few days over Christmas but obviously that didn’t happen. He might as well have been, though, the amount people went on about him.

She was like a cat on hot bricks, restless, locked full of secrets like an adolescent. Everyone assumed it was because of Jason, talked to her about Jason, but it wasn’t Jason she wanted to talk about. Her mind looped round Seth in ever-decreasing circles while she answered unending questions about Jason. She only cried once, on Christmas Day, after too much red wine and an awkward phone call.

So you were glad to get back to London. With your friends.

And out of drag. I was.

Scene 15

January was Rebecca’s least favourite month but the constant hurry to get from A to B, now intensified by the cold, pinched faces of passers-by, propelled her like a power surge. London didn’t die off in the winter; if anything it upped the ante, forced the pace faster and more furious. This year that suited her.

Being back in contact with them all, pressing the Play button again, was a relief. It was hard to imagine what her life had been like before Seth, before the group. How empty it must have been. She was in daily contact with Anna and José, regularly thrilled by Seth’s velvety voice on her landline and the whole group met at least once a week, with infinite subset possibilities in between. Rebecca started to initiate things herself: a visit to the Sensations exhibition, which provoked an hour of debate; a meal at the new South Indian restaurant up near Euston; even rollerblading in Hyde Park in the stripped winter sunshine. In return she was asked on Sunday walks by Seth and Michael, taken to a concert by Charles and asked to accompany Anna to a fancy dress party, with strict instructions not to look sexy. Her Catwoman costume was banned and Anna turned her into The Joker instead.

There was no work on the horizon but she wasn’t going to worry about it. Her two episodes in the serial drama had aired but hadn’t led to a deluge of other offers, despite her mum’s prediction. Instead she was doing some more school stuff for Michael and getting expenses for it. Better than answering phones all day – or vegging out in her pyjamas. It was strange how little she missed Jason. The others seemed to have gushed into the void, maybe on purpose to keep her busy, or maybe it was always going to be that way when she had more space in her life. She missed him when the lights fused or the landlord announced he was putting up the rent. On Sunday mornings she missed sex. But other than that she pulsed with guilty relief, concealed under vague talk of ‘getting over him’.

One sunny Saturday morning she had a crackly call from Anna.

“Fancy cruising the King’s Road with me?”

“What?”

“I’ve got the hood down, shades on and I’m looking for talent.”

Rebecca laughed. “In January? You’re nuts.”

“Well, wrap up warm because I’m picking you up in fifteen minutes.”

Fourteen minutes later she was summoned to the door by an insistent horn.

“So this is the famous car.” Anna’s pride and joy, an old green MG. She and Seth liked to talk about cars but Rebecca sensed that it was a real passion for Anna, more a toy thing for Seth.

“This is the green goddess. Hop in.”

They laughed and shivered all the way to Sloane Square, people staring as if they were mad. Just being around Anna was like having an adrenaline shot. When they finally parked they were so cold they headed straight for Anna’s favourite patisserie and clutched hot chocolates, still giggling.

“As far as pick-up tactics go, this wasn’t the most successful I’ve come across.”

“Don’t write it off yet. We’ve still got the return journey.”

“If that hood’s still down, I’m on the Tube, mate.” They grinned at each other. Anna glugged her drink and burped. Rebecca smiled to hide an involuntary wince. She’d been brought up to see farting and burping as ‘unfeminine’, not for public display. Anna did both with abandon. Still, there wasn’t much conventionally feminine about Anna – least of all her sexual appetite. How strange and wonderful to have that comfort in your own skin without wondering how people perceived you.

“So, tell me about Christmas at Seth’s. I’ve barely heard anything, except that Jake found several new uses for leftover turkey.”

Anna grinned and shrugged. “The usual. Seth was sky high, you know how he can be.”

A twist of jealousy in her gut. “Did Michael enjoy it?”

“Hard to tell with him. Always so watchful, you know? Sometimes I just want to slap him. But he loosened up in the end.”

“And no surprises, à la panto?”

Anna chuckled. “Nothing quite as extreme as that. The odd game or two, if I recall, into the early hours.”

Rebecca could tell there was more but she wasn’t going to hear about it. She changed tack slightly.

“Wasn’t it weird, by the way, the panto?” It was a while ago now, but she still hadn’t dissected it properly with anyone.

“How do you mean?” Anna’s face revealed nothing.

“Well, the whole stuff about who was who.”

“Seth loves all that shit. Secrets, disguises, pretending. Confused identity.”

“He’s a hard person to get to know, isn’t he?” Anna’s eyes flicked over her and Rebecca had the feeling she’d just shown a card in her hand.

“Well we all are, aren’t we? Maybe that’s what the play was about.”

“Maybe. And then those blokes at the door.” Rebecca shuddered slightly. “That was weird.”

“Yeah.” Anna looked as if she was about to say more but seemed to change her mind. “Anyway.” She shifted in her seat and Rebecca mirrored her. “What are you planning for the next group?”

“I’m not sure yet. Now I’ve finished panto I can give it some thought. It sounds very different from the last one.”

The theme was ‘Childhood [
cut short
]’ and Seth’s invitations had featured – shockingly – a newspaper cutting of the Dunblane massacre. He’d written:

Come to a tea party on Saturday. Do something different. Take a risk. Show us something of yourself.

“Yes, on a Saturday for a start. What does that make us, Saturday Sillybillies?” They laughed and Anna mopped up a biscotti crumb from the table with her finger. “I thought I’d join in this time.” An unfamiliar expression of shyness hovered briefly over her face.

“Really? How come?”

Anna shrugged. “It’s about time really. And I’m sure I’ll find a way of lowering the tone, even with a childhood theme.”

“I’m sure you will.”

A clatter from the next table caught their attention. A baby covered in mustard-coloured goo grinned over at them while his mother fished around on the floor for the spoon he’d thrown.

Anna winked. “How’s single life treating you?”

“Good, actually. It’s been a while.”

“Well, it’ll probably be a while before you’re attached again if you hang around with us for too long.”

Rebecca smiled. “Yes, it’s weird everyone being single.”

“Tell me about it. Either the group is a hotbed of simmering sexual tensions or we’re just a bunch of freaks. Or both. Come on – you’re the new kid here – what do you think?” She leaned back. Rebecca felt at a sudden disadvantage.

“Well, I have wondered about Michael and Catherine. Whether he’s pissed off because she only has eyes for Seth.”

Anna nodded slowly. “I see where you’re coming from but I don’t think so. They’ve been friends since university and he’s protective of her but I don’t think it goes further than that.” She thought for a second. “Catherine seems to have some sort of effect on men. One look at her playing that bloody piano and they think she’s the Angel Gabriel. Although he was a bloke, wasn’t he?”

Rebecca grinned. “I know exactly what you mean, though. Even Seth.”

“Seth most of all, I’d say.”

Another twist of jealousy, burrowing into her like a corkscrew. Anna looked thoughtful. “Or maybe not, maybe Charles actually.”

Just for a second it all felt too much, too intense, too bizarre, and Rebecca wondered what she was getting into. Then she took another sip of hot chocolate and happily let herself get sucked back in.

Scene 16

Did you notice Seth Gardner behaving oddly around this time, Miss Jarret?

No, he was his normal self, I think. We saw each other every week, more or less. I’d make dinner for him, we’d chat.

So he regularly came to your flat?

No, I meant at his flat.

You’d make dinner for him at his home?

He didn’t – doesn’t – cook that much. It was just a habit we got into, I suppose.

“Catherine Jarret, you’re an amazing woman. How on earth do you produce something like that from the contents, or non-contents, of my fridge? It smells divine.”

No one called her amazing. No one except Seth. She smiled, as though cherishing a secret, as if she’d done something more mysterious than frying up garlic, onions, anchovies and chilli. In some ways men, even this man, were easy to impress.

“I take it you’re hungry?” She stood up to ladle spaghetti onto his plate, enjoying the way he was looking at her.

“You bet. Why don’t you come and play piano here every day?”

“Well, apart from the fact that businesses everywhere would go bust without me…” She made her tone arch and her eyes, hopefully, teasing.

“You’re a hard woman, Ms Jarret.” Just for a second his eyes slipped over her and she felt aware of the pull of her ribbed sweater over her breasts.

“More, sir?” She was playing this just right.

He put his hand over his plate. “No, I think that will do me.” Stupidly, she felt rebuffed.

They were part way through the meal when she saw his eyes widen and his face freeze. She was telling him about her sister, how she worried about her lifestyle with all those boyfriends, coming home late at night on her own. How she wondered if Suzanne would ever be responsible enough to start saving or buy a flat. She wasn’t
judging
her, she was just worried. Then Seth stopped chewing and stared at something to her left with a mouth full of food.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t reply but she was relieved to see him swallow and put down his cutlery. He reached over and plucked a long, ginger hair from one of the place mats, rolling it slightly between his thumb and forefinger as he held it up to the light.

Catherine pulled her mouth. “Ew – one of Rebecca’s, I guess.” She couldn’t understand why women grew their hair so long; it was plainly unsanitary. But Seth showed no sign of throwing the hair in the bin, where it belonged. She felt slightly sick.

“Shall I get the bin for you?” It was as if he’d forgotten she was there. The hair wiggled like a caterpillar, catching the light.

Finally he looked at her. “Sorry – bit of a flashback.” He looked pale. He was stroking the hair, holding it with one hand and running his index finger and thumb along it with the other. There was no way she could go back to her spaghetti now.

She swallowed garlicky saliva. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He smiled as his eyes left her face. “Talk about it. I could try.” He looked back at her. “I don’t suppose you ever caught your parents fucking on the dining room table?”

“What? No, I didn’t. Did you?”