Twenties Girl
Page 162
“I wish I could touch it,” she murmurs.
“I know.” Helplessly, I hold it out to her, as though presenting an offering. I want to drape it around her neck. I want to reunite her with it.
“I want it back,” she says quietly. “I want you to give it back to me.”
“Now? Today?”
Sadie meets my eyes. “Right now.”
There’s a sudden blocking in my throat. I can’t say any of the things I want to say. I think she knows what they are, anyway.
“I want it back,” she repeats, softly but firmly. “I’ve been too long without it.”
“Right.” I nod several times, my fingers clutching the necklace so hard I think they might bruise. “Well, then, you need to have it.”
The journey is too short. The taxi is slipping through the early-morning streets too effortlessly. I want to tell the driver to slow down. I want time to stand still. I want the taxi to be caught in a jam for six hours… But all of a sudden we’re drawing up in the little suburban street. We’ve arrived.
“Well, that was quick, wasn’t it?” Sadie’s voice is resolutely bright.
“Yes!” I force a smile. “Amazingly quick.”
As we get out of the taxi, I feel dread clasping my chest like iron. My hand is locked around the necklace so hard, I’m getting cramps in my fingers. But I can’t bring myself to loosen my grasp, even as I’m struggling to pay the driver with the other hand.
The taxi roars away, and Sadie and I look at each other. We’re standing opposite a small row of shops, one of which is a funeral parlor.
“That’s it there.” I point redundantly at the sign saying Chapel of Rest . “Looks like it’s closed.”
Sadie has drifted up to the firmly locked door and is peering in the window.
“We’d better wait, I suppose.” She shrugs and returns to my side. “We can sit here.”
She sits down beside me on a wooden bench, and for a moment we’re both silent. I glance at my watch. Eight fifty-five. They open up shop at nine. Just the thought gives me a rush of panic, so I won’t think about it. Not yet. I’ll just focus on the fact that I’m sitting here with Sadie.
“Nice dress, by the way.” I think I sound fairly normal. “Who did you pinch that one from?”
“No one,” says Sadie, sounding offended. “It was mine.” She runs her eyes over me, then says grudgingly, “Your shoes are pretty.”
“Thanks.” I want to smile, but my mouth won’t quite do it. “I bought them the other day. Ed helped me choose them, actually. We were late-night shopping. We went to the Whiteleys center. They had all these special offers on…”
I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just talking for the sake of it. Because talking is better than waiting. I glance at my watch again and it’s two minutes past the hour. They’re late. I feel ridiculously grateful, like we’ve been given a reprieve.
“He’s rather good at the old bone-jumping, isn’t he?” Sadie suddenly says conversationally. “Ed, I mean. Mind you… you’re not so bad either.”
Bone-jumping?
She doesn’t mean-
No. No .
“Sadie.” I turn on her. “I knew it! You watched us!”
“What?” She bursts into peals of laughter. “I was very subtle! You didn’t know I was there.”
“What did you see?” I moan.
“Everything,” she says airily. “And it was a jolly good show, I can tell you.”
“Sadie, you’re impossible!” I clutch my head. “You don’t watch people having sex! There are laws against that!”
“I just had one tiny criticism,” she says, ignoring me. “Or, rather… suggestion. Something we used to do in my day.”
“No!” I say in horror. “No suggestions!”
“Your loss.” She shrugs and examines her nails, occasionally shooting me a look from under her lashes.
Oh for God’s sake. Of course, now my curiosity is piqued. I want to know what her suggestion is.
“All right,” I say at last. “Tell me your genius 1920s sex tip. But it better not involve any weird indelible paste.”
“Well…” Sadie begins, coming closer. But before she can continue, my eyes suddenly focus over her shoulder. I stiffen and draw breath. An elderly man in an overcoat is unlocking the door of the funeral parlor.
“What is it?” Sadie follows my gaze. “Oh.”
“Yes.” I swallow.
By now the elderly man has caught sight of me. I suppose I am quite noticeable, sitting bolt upright on a bench staring directly at him.
“I know.” Helplessly, I hold it out to her, as though presenting an offering. I want to drape it around her neck. I want to reunite her with it.
“I want it back,” she says quietly. “I want you to give it back to me.”
“Now? Today?”
Sadie meets my eyes. “Right now.”
There’s a sudden blocking in my throat. I can’t say any of the things I want to say. I think she knows what they are, anyway.
“I want it back,” she repeats, softly but firmly. “I’ve been too long without it.”
“Right.” I nod several times, my fingers clutching the necklace so hard I think they might bruise. “Well, then, you need to have it.”
The journey is too short. The taxi is slipping through the early-morning streets too effortlessly. I want to tell the driver to slow down. I want time to stand still. I want the taxi to be caught in a jam for six hours… But all of a sudden we’re drawing up in the little suburban street. We’ve arrived.
“Well, that was quick, wasn’t it?” Sadie’s voice is resolutely bright.
“Yes!” I force a smile. “Amazingly quick.”
As we get out of the taxi, I feel dread clasping my chest like iron. My hand is locked around the necklace so hard, I’m getting cramps in my fingers. But I can’t bring myself to loosen my grasp, even as I’m struggling to pay the driver with the other hand.
The taxi roars away, and Sadie and I look at each other. We’re standing opposite a small row of shops, one of which is a funeral parlor.
“That’s it there.” I point redundantly at the sign saying Chapel of Rest . “Looks like it’s closed.”
Sadie has drifted up to the firmly locked door and is peering in the window.
“We’d better wait, I suppose.” She shrugs and returns to my side. “We can sit here.”
She sits down beside me on a wooden bench, and for a moment we’re both silent. I glance at my watch. Eight fifty-five. They open up shop at nine. Just the thought gives me a rush of panic, so I won’t think about it. Not yet. I’ll just focus on the fact that I’m sitting here with Sadie.
“Nice dress, by the way.” I think I sound fairly normal. “Who did you pinch that one from?”
“No one,” says Sadie, sounding offended. “It was mine.” She runs her eyes over me, then says grudgingly, “Your shoes are pretty.”
“Thanks.” I want to smile, but my mouth won’t quite do it. “I bought them the other day. Ed helped me choose them, actually. We were late-night shopping. We went to the Whiteleys center. They had all these special offers on…”
I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just talking for the sake of it. Because talking is better than waiting. I glance at my watch again and it’s two minutes past the hour. They’re late. I feel ridiculously grateful, like we’ve been given a reprieve.
“He’s rather good at the old bone-jumping, isn’t he?” Sadie suddenly says conversationally. “Ed, I mean. Mind you… you’re not so bad either.”
Bone-jumping?
She doesn’t mean-
No. No .
“Sadie.” I turn on her. “I knew it! You watched us!”
“What?” She bursts into peals of laughter. “I was very subtle! You didn’t know I was there.”
“What did you see?” I moan.
“Everything,” she says airily. “And it was a jolly good show, I can tell you.”
“Sadie, you’re impossible!” I clutch my head. “You don’t watch people having sex! There are laws against that!”
“I just had one tiny criticism,” she says, ignoring me. “Or, rather… suggestion. Something we used to do in my day.”
“No!” I say in horror. “No suggestions!”
“Your loss.” She shrugs and examines her nails, occasionally shooting me a look from under her lashes.
Oh for God’s sake. Of course, now my curiosity is piqued. I want to know what her suggestion is.
“All right,” I say at last. “Tell me your genius 1920s sex tip. But it better not involve any weird indelible paste.”
“Well…” Sadie begins, coming closer. But before she can continue, my eyes suddenly focus over her shoulder. I stiffen and draw breath. An elderly man in an overcoat is unlocking the door of the funeral parlor.
“What is it?” Sadie follows my gaze. “Oh.”
“Yes.” I swallow.
By now the elderly man has caught sight of me. I suppose I am quite noticeable, sitting bolt upright on a bench staring directly at him.
