M. Arlidge - Liar Liar

‘Tonic over ice, please,’ Helen shouted at the barman, as she pushed her way to the bar. As he obliged, she took in the scene, her eye wandering over the first daters, the groups of friends, the hangovers-in-waiting and more besides. Helen didn’t drink – hadn’t done for years – but she liked these places. Things could turn ugly where drink was concerned and Helen had had to intervene on a couple of occasions to defuse unpleasant situations, but young people as a rule seemed to be drinking rather less than previous generations – the whole scene was more a social thing than an excuse for binge-drinking. That was especially the case around here, so close to Southampton University, where the pubs and bars were full of twenty-somethings who couldn’t afford vast rounds of drinks even if they’d wanted to.

Helen had come here straight from work as she couldn’t face going back to her flat. Her meeting with Gardam was still bothering her and if she went home she would only obsess about it further. Better to be here, enjoying the buzz, than stewing alone.

As her eyes swept the crowds, she became aware of someone waving sheepishly to her from a table on the other side of the room. It took her eyes, her brain, a couple of seconds to process the sight, but there was no doubt about it.

Jake. Helen had never seen him in a social context – barring one exception, she had only ever encountered him in his workplace, where he played the role of dominator to perfection, never letting the real Jake through. He was on his way over now and for a second Helen was surprised to find that she was panicking, wondering what to say to him in a conversation that she hadn’t paid for.

‘I thought it was you.’

He leant in and kissed her gently on the cheek. Unlike her, he seemed completely at ease. More than that, he seemed happy.

‘I didn’t expect to find you somewhere like this,’ he continued lightly.

‘Neither did I, but it’s been a tough day, so I thought I’d come and inhale a bit of youthful optimism.’

Jake smiled, but the accidental subtext of Helen’s reply was lost on neither of them. Previously Helen had run to Jake when work had got to her, but not now.

‘How about you?’ Helen continued quickly.

‘I’m on a date,’ Jake said, pretending to be embarrassed, as he nodded towards a handsome young man, who smiled awkwardly back at them from across the crowded room.

‘Good for you,’ Helen responded, though her brain was still playing catch-up. She knew that Jake was bisexual, but such was his interest in her that she’d always assumed he was more romantically attracted to women.

‘Is this a new thing… ?’ she went on.

‘Not really,’ Jake answered, diplomatically.

‘And it’s going well?’

‘Well tonight is our sixth date, so…’

‘Wow.’

‘Yes. Wow.’ Jake laughed at himself easily and confidently.

Helen smiled, but couldn’t think of the appropriate way to respond, so said nothing. She knew so little of Jake’s romantic history that she didn’t really know if this was a big development or not. She suspected it might be.

‘And you’re ok?’ Jake queried.

‘Oh you know. Same old same old.’

Jake smiled and nodded. Conversely he knew an awful lot about Helen and understood exactly what she went through during a major investigation. For a moment, the conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, then Helen said:

‘Don’t let me keep you, Jake. I’d hate to sabotage young love…’

‘You’re right, I’d better go. Take care of yourself, Helen.’

He leant in and kissed her once more, this time giving her a brief hug with it. She responded, but felt a sharp and sudden stab of sadness as she did so. This felt very much like Jake finally cutting loose.

She watched him return to his date and hung around for another ten minutes, not wanting Jake to think he’d driven her out by his presence. But as soon as he and his boyfriend were once more engaged in happy, tactile conversation, Helen slipped out into the night.

Walking back to the flat, she reflected on her strange evening. She had gone to the bar seeking solace, but had found something else instead. She had the strange feeling that her life was changing for ever, moving past her in a way that she could neither prevent nor control. Worse still was the fact that Jake’s happiness made her miserable. She pushed the thought away – it was so unpleasant to feel sad about someone else’s joy and yet there it was. Deny it though she might, the truth was that she had never felt so alone as she did tonight.

Blog post by firstpersonsingular.

Wednesday, 9 December, 23.30

More bullshit today. Where do these people get off? With their half-arsed statements and brain-dead journalism. Why does everything have to end up being a fucking soap opera?

Know what I mean?!?☹☹☹☹

She could have written about anything. She could have written about it. But instead she wrote about them. Not many pictures of the fire and even those were blurred. It’s not hard, people…

Lots of pictures of the dad though. And his poor ickle son. So brave. Both of them. Really. I mean it.

They may have suffered, but here’s the thing. At least someone cares. At least their pain registers.

You must know what I mean. And before you dismiss me as just another troll, think about it.

Because it’s not the pain that matters. It’s the context of that pain. Do you follow?

People give a shit. The dad. The son. Even the crispy sister. They’ve lost their momma, their anchor/rock/mainstay (delete as appropriate), but they’ve got each other. In a fucked-up way, they’re closer now than they ever were.

So before you expend all your sympathy on them, think. Do they need it? Do they want it? No, they have everything right there in their tight little family.

They are the lucky ones. I’ve been alone from the moment I was conceived.

‘Nice to meet you, Eleanor. I don’t usually accept spur-of-the-moment clients, but just this once I’ll make an exception.’

It was said pleasantly enough, making it hard for Helen to tell whether there was innuendo lying beneath it or not.

‘So, why don’t you tell me what I can do for you tonight?’

The final sentence was loaded with possibility. With Jake sex was never part of the deal – he was a dominator pure and simple – but she got the distinct impression that Max Paine was a very different animal. He was incredibly well built and seemed to take pride in displaying as much of his body as possible. Was that to impress or intimidate? Helen couldn’t tell.

‘Let’s keep it simple to start with. I don’t want to be touched, I don’t want to be teased. I just want you to do what I ask and nothing more.’

‘You’re in charge.’

‘Exactly. A leather riding crop should do us fine. Twenty minutes max. My safe word is “release”. If you hear tha-’

‘Then everything stops. I have done this before, Eleanor.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry.’

Helen stared at him, refusing to show that she was embarrassed or nervous. But she was both – unsure of her footing in this strange, new environment. Jake’s room had had a bizarre cosiness to it – which matched his personality. This place was something different – bigger, more elaborate. Helen wondered what secrets these walls could reveal.

‘That’s pretty clear, so shall we get started?’ Max continued, pointing Helen towards a small, curtained, changing area. Helen obliged, removing her coat and scarf and stepping inside. She undressed quickly, but her fingers fumbled over the buttons of her blouse, gripped by a sudden anxiety. Had she made a mistake coming here? She didn’t know who he was, hadn’t checked him out at all. She had been stupid and reckless. And yet the alternative – sitting at home trying to resist the temptation to hurt herself – seemed even worse.