Death's Door

Twenty-three

Mario was in the kitchen of his penthouse in Leith’s gentrified quarter; ‘Willow’, from the first Café del Mar Aria album, was playing on his stereo system, yet he was aware nonetheless of the apartment’s main door opening. He did not react; instead he carried on chopping a large red pepper until he felt two slender arms slip round his waist, two firm breasts press into his back, and a head settle on his shoulder.

‘You’re late,’ he murmured, as he turned in her embrace to kiss her. ‘It’s quarter to seven.’

‘Things to do,’ Paula replied, after a while.

‘Such as?’

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and he followed its direction. A brown-paper bag lay on the work surface. ‘Rolls,’ she murmured, ‘for the morning.’

‘What about the bacon?’

‘Don’t kid me. You’ve always got bacon in the fridge.’

‘I’m that predictable, eh?’

‘Only in your shopping habits. The rest of the time you’re as daft and impulsive as you ever were.’

He pressed her closer to him. ‘Much like yourself, then.’

‘Is that what you think? Is that what’s wrong with me?’

‘I don’t see anything wrong with you. You wanted me to look you in the eye and tell you that, and here, I’m doing it.’

‘I know, love.’ She took a button of his open-necked shirt and twirled it in her fingers. ‘And I love you for your faith in me; but that’s not what we were talking about earlier. I was going on about last night, and the way I felt when I held the baby.’

‘And I told you it would wear off.’ He looked at her, suddenly serious. ‘Hey, you’re not working up to tell me that you want to try for a kid with someone else, are you?’

Her mouth fell open; and then she laughed. At that moment, it ranked among the most delicious sounds that Mario had ever heard. ‘Daft,’ she exclaimed, ‘unpredictable, and at times plain bloody stupid. With or without a baby, I’m every bit as happy as Lou McIlhenney, and it’s all because of you.’

She eased herself out of his grasp, walked to the wine cabinet and took out a bottle of Pinot Grigio. ‘I’m not just unsettled because of last night,’ she said, as she pulled the lever of the wall-mounted corkscrew. ‘I’ve felt this way for a while, and it’s only now that I’ve worked out in my head what it is.’ She handed him a glass, as he looked at her quizzically. ‘The way we live is great; let me say that straight off. It’s easy, no commitment either way, both of us independent. But the thing is, love, I just feel it’s time to become a proper couple.’

‘You mean as in married?’

‘I don’t give a toss about being married. But I want to give you more, I want to make a commitment to you. The independence notion is nonsense; my happiness depends on you.’

He sipped his wine, its chill contrasting with the warm wave that he felt flow through him. ‘And mine on you,’ he told her, ‘every bit as much. Whatever you want, it’s yours.’

‘You always say that. Sometimes I feel that I’m taking advantage of you.’

‘No.’ He grinned at her. ‘Paula, let’s stop faffing around. After tonight, I don’t want you just to go home as usual. Neil and Lou are right, we’re not fooling anyone. I’d like you to move in here. Or, if you prefer it, I’ll move into your place. Or, if you want a third option, we could buy a house together. I’ve been up for this for a while; I felt it had to come from you, that’s all.’ He paused and the grin became a chuckle. ‘Hey, do you think Nana Viareggio’s ready for it?’

‘Nana Viareggio’s ready to see off Armageddon,’ Paula retorted. ‘She can handle the idea of two of her grand-children living together. I know this, because I’ve spoken to her about it. She told me that she’s been waiting for it to happen for twenty years, and if it does, she’ll die happy. . although she did add that she doesn’t plan to do that for a while. As for our mothers, they’re used to the idea.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Now that’s sorted, when do we make the move?’

She winked at him. ‘I’ve got two suitcases in my car: that’s the real reason I was late. But, Mario, there is something else, and it does have to do with last night. For all your fertility situation, as long as we’ve been. . together, I’ve been on the pill. Silly of me, maybe, but I’ve always been one for belt and braces, if you know what I mean.’

‘And now you want to take your belt off?’

She nodded.

‘To give an even break to the few miserable sperm that I might produce?’

She nodded.

He put down his glass and took her in his arms again. ‘Then unbuckle the damn thing right now, although I warn you, we’ve got a better chance of winning the lottery than of you getting pregnant with me.’

‘Hey, somebody wins that every week,’ she pointed out. ‘But I just want to buy a ticket, that’s all.’

‘You can have as many tickets as you like,’ he lifted her off her feet and headed for the door, ‘starting right now.’

He had almost reached the bedroom when the phone rang. He swore quietly. ‘I’ve got to answer it,’ he said, setting her down. ‘You know that as long as I’m in this job, I’ll always have to answer it?’

‘I can live with that,’ she replied. ‘Go on.’

He took one pace towards the sideboard and snatched a cordless telephone from its cradle. ‘McGuire,’ she heard him bark testily, and felt a moment of sympathy for whoever was at the other end of the line.

‘Yes, Stevie,’ he continued. His forehead twisted into a heavy frown. ‘Shit. It doesn’t get any easier, does it? I’ll be there inside half an hour.’ He paused. ‘Of course I’ve got something better to do,’ he bellowed, ‘but it’s my fucking job to be there.’

He slammed the phone back into its cradle. ‘Sorry, love.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It is your fucking job, right enough. I’ll come with you. I’ll wait in the car while you do what you have to do. Once you’re done, it’ll cost you dinner somewhere fancy: sod the pasta for tonight.’ She laid a hand on his cheek, and flashed him a smile that on anyone else might have seemed demure. ‘Get used to it, love: this is how it’s going to be.’