Simon Beckett - Fine Lines

“We’re closed.” I said. “Could you call back later?” They left, not altogether happily. I did not care. I felt proud to have Anna in my arms.

But as she continued to sob with no sign of stopping, I began to grow concerned. As minutes passed with no change, I had to accept that the situation was beyond me. I had no idea how to comfort her. Much as I wanted to keep her to myself, I realised I needed help.

The only person I could think of to call was Debbie, the girl I had met at Anna’s flat. I could get no sense from Anna when I asked for her friend’s telephone number, and finally led her to a chair and sat her down while I went through her bag. The girl’s number was in a small address book, which Anna had fortunately listed by Christian names. I kept my voice low as I called her at work and quickly explained the situation. My earlier jealousy had disappeared completely. I felt only relief when she immediately said she would come.

Anna flung herself on the other girl as soon as she arrived. I stood back, embarrassed, as Debbie began to cry almost as copiously herself. I drove them to Anna’s flat and saw them inside, then left as soon as I decently could. I was not needed. And such naked displays made me uncomfortable.

I drove away feeling tense and exhausted. I began to head back to the gallery automatically, but halfway it suddenly occurred to me that I had no desire at all to spend the rest of the day there. It would still be too fraught with the memory of the morning’s events. I felt I needed a break, time to air myself and breathe after the emotional blood fest

At one time my idea of recreation would have been to lose myself for an hour or two in one of the major galleries. Now, however, I felt little attraction at the thought of staring at more paintings. I racked my brain for an alternative, but I was too set in my ways to be inventive. Then I saw a poster by the side of the road, and in a second my mind was made up. With a spontaneity I had not felt in years, I set off for London Zoo.

I had not been to a zoo since I was a child, and the thought of live exhibits instead of inanimate ones seemed inordinately appealing. Feeling only slightly embarrassed, I paid my entrance fee and went inside.

It was mid-week, and despite being a sunny day the zoo was pleasantly quiet. I wandered between the cages and enclosures, remembering the pungent, swampy odours from my childhood. The somnambulent, muscular danger of the reptiles kept me engrossed for almost half an hour, but the big cats I found disappointing. Out of the context of their natural habitat, the slothful, bored looking beasts had lost their animation and their dignity. They made poor watching.

I moved on. A group of schoolchildren were clustered in front of the zebra enclosure, raucously jostling for a look into the pen. I strolled over to see what had excited them. One of the zebras was sniffing at a mare’s hindquarters. Protruding from between its rear legs was an amazingly long and startlingly purple erection. Quite uninhibited by my presence, the children gleefully nudged each other and shrieked as the zebra attempted to mount the mare. I walked away quickly, glad when the crude comments and laughter of the young audience were left behind.

Bypassing the primate section, I stopped in the cafe for a cup of tea and, succumbing to childish hedonism, an ice cream. I took an outside table and basked in the pleasantly warm sunshine. I did not notice the man at the next table until he spoke.

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

I looked across, unsure it was me he was talking to. He was middle-aged, with thinning, sandy hair. “Yes, very.” I was not in the mood for conversation, and hoped he would not persist. But he did.

“I love coming here. Great atmosphere, isn’t it?” I smiled and nodded. “I haven’t seen you here before, though. Do you come a lot?”

“No. This is the first time in years.”

He beamed as though that confirmed something. “Ah.” He played with his cup. “I come here all the time. I don’t like the idea of anything being caged, though, I must admit. I much prefer things to be able to be out in the open. But it’s not always possible, is it?”

He was waiting for an answer. “No, I suppose not.”

He looked pleased, shifting slightly in his chair to face me. “You know what I mean, then?”

It seemed a strange question. “Yes, I think so.”

“Oh, good. Good.” He seemed suddenly self-conscious. He glanced at his watch. Then, with studied casualness, he said, “Would you like to have a drink back at my flat?”

It was a second or two before I realised I was being propositioned. I felt my face instantly begin to colour up. “No. Thank you.”

“It’s not very far.”

“No. Really. I must be going.” I still had half a cup of tea and some ice cream left. Leaving them, I pushed my chair away and quickly stood up. My thighs caught the edge of the table and rocked it, rattling the dishes and slopping tea into the saucer. I still could not get out and had to push the chair back further. It scraped agonisingly loudly on the floor, and clattered as I hooked my foot on one of its legs and almost tripped. I cast a brief glance at the sandy-haired man as I hurried away. His face was averted, but the back of his neck had gone a bright red. It probably matched my own.

I left the zoo without looking at any more of the exhibits. I ate out, and arrived home a little after eight o’clock. For once the thought of spending a night in did not seem daunting.

I made myself a drink and telephoned Anna’s flat. Debbie answered. “She’s in bed,” she said, when I asked how Anna was. “I had to call for a doctor not long after you left. I couldn’t do anything with her. I mean, I’ve seen her upset before, but never anything like that. It was frightening.”

I felt a sly satisfaction that she also had to call for help. “Is she any better now?”

“Well, the doctor gave her a sedative, and that quietened her down a bit. She’s sleeping now, thank God. That’s probably the best thing for her. I’m going to stay tonight. I don’t think its a good idea to leave her on her own. I mean, I’m not saying she’ll do anything, but someone should be here in case she gets hysterical again.”

“What about tomorrow?” I felt panic at the thought of having to cope with Anna like that on my own.

“I’ve got the morning off, but I’ve really got to go to work in the afternoon. But I phoned her parents, and her mother’s going to come over at dinnertime. I’m glad, because Anna really needs someone looking after her until she gets over this. I mean, all the pressure she’s been under lately, she was bound to crack sooner or later. I’ve seen it coming. She’s been bottling it up for weeks, and I suppose yesterday must just have been too much for her. You know, knowing that was when they should have gone to the States. It’s like that was her cut-off point, or something. I’ve tried to tell her it doesn’t mean anything, but she won’t listen. She’s convinced now that Marty must be dead, and it’s not as if you can say much to reassure her, is it? I mean, what can you say? It doesn’t look very good, does it?”

I was not going to be drawn into that. “How long is Anna’s mother staying for?”

“Oh, she’s not staying. She’s going to take Anna home with her.”

“Home?” I echoed.

“To Cheltenham.”

That was something I had not expected. “How long for?”

“I don’t know. Until she gets her head together, I suppose.” Something in my voice must not have sounded quite right. “You don’t mind, do you? Her taking time off, I mean?”

“Good Lord, no. Of course not. As you say, she needs someone to look after her.” It was easier to sound blasé than to feel it. The thought of a separation, possibly of weeks, left me with a hollow feeling in my stomach. I told myself that I had to allow for some period of adjustment, and that a complete change of scene might make Anna recover all the more quickly. But that did little to make me feel any happier.