Liz Hennan was scared.
It was only after she had taken a long and thorough shower and lain awake in the darkness for half an hour that she realized what the problem was.
For it was not something that used to afflict her very often.
As she lay there, staring at the digital clock spitting forth the red minutes of the night, she tried to recall the feeling.
When had she last been scared? As scared as this?
It must have been a long time ago, that was certain.
Perhaps even when she was a teenager. She had reached the age of thirty-six now, and there had doubtless been many opportunities to be scared. Lots of them. But was it not the very fact of there being so many that had taught her to cope?
Chastened and taught her.
That life wasn’t all that dangerous. It was no dance on roses, that was for sure-but what the hell? She’d never expected it to be that. Her mother had been able to make her understand that, and good for her.
There were men and there were men. And sometimes you made a mistake. But there was always a way out, that was the point. If you’d demeaned yourself, or landed up with a real shit, all you needed to do was to get out of the mess. Tell him to go to hell, and start all over again.
That’s the way things were, and had been all her life. There were good times and there were bad times. That’s life, as Ron used to say.
The clock showed 12:24. She had difficulty in settling down tonight, she could feel it. . Feel it in her stomach and in her breasts. And in her pussy. She ran her fingers over her labia: dry. As dry as rusks. That’s not how things usually were when she’d been so close to a man. .
Scared.
It wasn’t Ron she was scared of, even if she wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him if he found out about this new man.
But why should he find out? She’d been more careful than ever, not breathed a word to anybody, not even to Johanna.
No-in fact, it was Ron she was longing to be with just now.
Wished that he was lying behind her, snuggled up close, with his strong, protective arm around her. .
That’s how things ought to have been. She’d married Ron three years ago, and they had not been bad years. But now he wasn’t at home. This wouldn’t be his home for another eighteen months yet, and that was an awfully long time to wait. His next leave wasn’t for another three weeks, and he was insisting on spending it to visit that bastard Heinz in Hamburg. Instead of coming home to her, the shit. What right had he to complain about her, if she took another man occasionally?
Yes, she was in fact scared of what Ron would do if he found out about it; but that level of fear was nothing like this other one. He would no doubt give her a beating, throw her out for a while, perhaps; but this other fear was something different. She could feel it.
To tell the truth, she wasn’t sure what she felt; it must be something new. She had been convinced that there was nothing new anymore, as far as she was concerned, thought she had already experienced every kind of nastiness in existence.
But this felt. . horrendous?
Was “fear” the wrong word for this? she wondered. Was it too weak? Perhaps there was something stronger?
“Terror”?
She shuddered. Wrapped the covers more closely around her.
Yes, that’s what it was. It was a feeling of terror creeping up on her. This new man filled her with terror.
She reached out and switched the light on. Sat up and lit a cigarette. What the hell was going on? She inhaled deeply several times, and tried to sort out her thoughts.
Tonight had been their third meeting, and they still hadn’t been to bed together. That said all there was to be said. Something must be wrong.
The first time, she’d had her period. Looking back now, she realized that he had almost seemed relieved.
The second time, they’d gone to the movies. There had been no question of anything else.
But this evening ought to have been when it happened.
They’d drunk a few glasses of wine, and watched some idiotic program on the telly. She’d been wearing a thin, flimsy dress and not a stitch underneath, and they’d sat on the sofa. She had caressed the back of his neck, but all he’d done was to stiffen up. . Stiffen up and place a heavy hand on her knee.
Left it lying there like a dead fish, while he attacked the wine even more voraciously.
Then he had apologized for not feeling well, and gone to the bathroom. He’d left soon after eleven.
They were going to meet on Saturday for the fourth time.
He would pick her up straight after work. They’d go for a drive, if the weather was anything like reasonable, and then go to his place. He was adamant that he wanted her to stay the m i n d ’ s e y e
night. Only half an hour after leaving her, he’d called and made the arrangements. Apologized again for not feeling on top form. And she had agreed to all the plans, of course. Said she was looking forward to it.
She had second thoughts almost before replacing the receiver. Why hadn’t she said that she had a previous engage-ment? Why had she been so stupid as to say yes to a man she didn’t want?
Why could she never learn?
She stubbed out her cigarette in annoyance, and noticed that her fear was giving way to anger. Perhaps that was a sign.
A sign that she was only imagining things. Surely it couldn’t be all that dangerous? She’d had so many men in her life, surely she could cope with one more. No doubt she would get this John, as he called himself, where she wanted him.
Satisfied with these conclusions, she switched off the light and rolled over onto her side. It really was time for some sleep now. She would get up at seven, and be in place in the boutique at half past eight, as usual. Just before falling asleep, however, she managed to make two decisions that she promised herself she would remember when she woke up the next morning.
Firstly, she would talk to Johanna after all. Impress upon her that she had an obligation of absolute silence, of course; but nevertheless, fill her in on the circumstances.
Secondly, she would meet this man on Saturday, but if the slightest thing went wrong, she would turn on her heel without more ado, and that would be that.
That’s what would happen.
Once this had been decided, Liz Hennan was finally able to drop off to sleep thinking about more down-to-earth matters.
Such as those expensive trainers, for instance: the ones she was intending to buy in order to improve her times and boost the number of calories she could burn off.
Which must have been a bad investment and wishful thinking, in view of the fact that she had only three days left to live.