Liz Jensen - The Rapture

As she is speaking, a grey car comes into view. With a thudding, forlorn dread, I consider who might be inside it, on his way. Then, from behind the greenhouse, Kristin Jons dottir appears, pocketing her phone and heading for the front door. She is looking worried. Or perhaps simply thoughtful. I wonder how she feels about meeting me. On the doorstep, she stops and turns. She must have heard the car.

‘Here comes loverboy,’ murmurs Bethany, following my gaze. I want to look away. But I can’t. He pulls up, parks and gets out. Kristin Jons dottir runs towards him. There is no mistaking the look on her face. My face used to light up like that once. And my heart used to—

I blink and swallow as they embrace.

‘They’ve been fucking like rabbits,’ comments Bethany matter-of-factly. They have pulled apart and Kristin Jons dottir is speaking to Frazer Melville excitedly, gesturing towards the house. He looks pleased, then anxious. ‘Look at them. He can’t get enough of her.’ Tipping her head back again, she feeds herself another string of liquorice, eyeing me sidelong. ‘She’s a real moaner. She has these orgasms that go on and on.’ Bethany stops and assesses my face. ‘And he’s noisy too. When he comes, he roars. Right, Wheels?’ She grins. ‘He roars like a lion.’

I tear my eyes from the window and shut then, trying not to remember. I am in freefall, hurtling through nothingness.

Not just naked, but skinned.

‘Coffee,’ announces Ned, entering with a small tray. ‘Colombian. Frazer told me it was your favourite so I got some in. And I see you found the Haribos, Bethany. Hey, is everything OK?’

No, I want to tell him. Please, get me out of here before I die.

‘We were just talking about sex,’ says Bethany with enthusiasm. ‘Who’s doing what with who.’ Ned looks at me blankly and I muster a small non-committal shrug. But Bethany is on a roll. ‘You wank a lot, don’t you, Ned?’ His face tightens and a muscle starts working beneath his stubble. She grins. ‘I guess you miss your boyfriend. Or should I say your ex-boyfriend. You might not guess to look at him, Wheels, but Ned here likes cock.’ She throws him a triumphant, jackpot look.

I flush. Of course. Ned’s jaw moves, as though he’s chewing on something, and his Adam’s apple strains. I feel a grievous rush of pity for him. He sets the tray down on the table and begins pouring the coffee.

‘I don’t remember discussing my private life with you, Bethany,’ he says.

‘You didn’t,’ she says. ‘But I picked up the vibe. I do that, don’t I, Wheels? It’s one of my irritating skills.’

Ned looks at me with a question on his face. I shake my head. The only surprise is that she left it this long.

Just outside, beyond the window, I can hear Frazer Melville and Kristin Jons dottir talking in low, urgent voices. I must get away or this will kill me. But Bethany, with her feeling for turbulence, intercepts: with a quick movement, she has re-angled my empty wheelchair and given it a shove. Silently, it rolls across the room and settles by the door, far out of reach.

‘Stuck,’ she says. ‘Stranded.’

I glance across at Ned, who obliges me by rolling the chair around the back of the chaise-longue and settling it where I can rest my hand on it. Outside, the talking stops and I hear a single set of footsteps approaching. When the door opens, I can’t look. But I know it’s the physicist. I can feel him standing in the doorway, his height filling the frame.

‘Gabrielle. Thank God you’re here. It all worked out.’ Frazer Melville sounds excited, unaware of the psychic pain washing the room. ‘Hi, Bethany, hi, Ned.’ I take a sip of coffee, blocking him out, savouring the miniature moment of escape.

‘I was just telling Gabrielle about you and Kristin,’ says Bethany. She grins wide, like a gargoyle, revealing a blackened tongue. ‘But now you’re here, you can tell her yourself.’

When she electrocuted herself, why didn’t she just die?

Flushing fiercely, I glance sideways. He’s moving towards me, but when he sees the look on my face — a look I can’t hide — he stops in his tracks and his smile fades. Bethany sucks in her breath theatrically.

‘Ooh, she’s angry, Frazer, I’m warning you! You’d better protect your balls! Catch you later!’

Thrilled with herself, she snatches up her Haribos, runs across to the doorway, ducks under the physicist’s arm and out of the room.

Ned, silently sipping coffee on the sofa opposite me, seems absorbed in his own painful thoughts. The physicist and I look at one another. I see the green shard but I won’t let it pull me in. I long to be back in my wheelchair but if I transferred to it now, I’d reveal my weakness. Bethany is right. I am stuck.

‘Gabrielle,’ he says softly.

He comes forward — to do what, embrace me? Seeing me recoil, he hesitates, sighs and settles himself into the armchair next to my chaise-longue. He is too big and too close. I ache for him and hate myself for it.

‘We kept you in the dark to protect you.’ His voice is gentle but there’s a hint of defiance.

‘Like hell.’ And anyway, I think bleakly. It’s not about that.

‘It’s true,’ says Ned, topping up my coffee. I breathe in sharply and feel the bile shoot through my blood. ‘I can see why you’d be angry but Frazer figured that if you lost your job you’d be in big trouble. Personally and professionally. Seriously, Gabrielle. We thought it through.’

‘I did lose my job.’

‘Oh no,’ says Frazer Melville. ‘God. Oh, Gabrielle, I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ I take a sip. The coffee is good. Strong and dark and fortifying. ‘I’m now officially unemployable.’

‘Actually that won’t matter in the larger scheme of things, if Bethany’s right,’ suggests Ned. Perhaps he believes he is being helpful.

Ignoring him, I address the physicist. ‘I may be restricted, physically. But your behaviour suggests you think I’m mentally incompetent with it.’

‘If you were to stay above suspicion with the police, you couldn’t know what we were planning. Or what we’d done.’ Frazer Melville’s expression is pleading. ‘I hoped I dropped enough clues for you to guess that I was behind it.’

‘Which I did when I covered for you with the police and risked imprisonment for perverting the course of justice.’

From the next room, The Simpsons theme tune blares at unbearable volume.

‘Someone wants some attention,’ Ned sighs, rising. ‘I’ll go and sort her out.’

‘Get those sweets off her,’ I call after him. ‘And if you have some, she needs fresh bandages.’

When the door has fully closed behind him, I take a deep breath. I can feel the physicist looking at me intently.

‘Sweetheart—’ He puts a hand on my arm but I shake him off violently.

‘Don’t touch me and don’t call me that!’

‘Hey, what’s going on with you?’ He sounds offended.

‘Tell me, what else have you been up to with Kristin Jons dottir?’

The physicist’s face switches from concern to bafflement. ‘I haven’t seen her. I’ve been in Thailand and Paris, in case you didn’t know. Why are you so angry?’

Where to begin? But I can’t. It’s too humiliating. Whatever I say will sound bitter and self-pitying. I have my pride. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them again he is still there. In the next room, the TV noise stops and Bethany protests. I hear ‘bastard’ and ‘arsehole’ and some quiet remonstrations from Ned.

‘Well, if you won’t tell me…’

‘Do I have to spell it out? OK, I’ll spell it out. I know about her. OK? I know.’

‘Get the fuck off me!’ Bethany shrieks from the next room. ‘Cocksucking arsehole! I can do it myself!’ Then Ned’s voice, sharp with alarm: ‘Hey! Look what you’ve done! Jesus!’