Дэвид Муди - Strangers

The relief was immense.

Mary was sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed, wearing a loose, open dress and very little else. She looked up at him and smiled and he felt himself relax. ‘Thank Christ you’re okay,’ he said. ‘Did you not hear me shouting?’

‘No, sorry.’

He looked at her again, then looked away with embarrassment when he realised how much of her flabby body was on show. She’d been grossly overweight for as long as he’d known her, so large that she’d scared him when he was a kid; a grotesquely made-up, mountainous monster. He’d vivid memories of her catching him and his mates playing around by her bins one time. His mates had got away, but she’d managed to grab him. He could still remember the smell of used cooking fat and cigarettes and the feel of her pudgy hands on his shoulders, greasy from working with cooking oil all day, every day.

‘Is everything all right, Mary?’

He made himself look again. She was on the floor with her legs splayed, everything on show. No knickers , he thought, and he tried not to stare but he couldn’t help himself, his eyes drawn to the parts of her he wanted to see least.

‘Cold,’ she said. She lifted her head and looked at him. She’d got the most beautiful eyes. He’d never really noticed them before. They were deep brown. Warm. Welcoming. Irises almost as dark as her pupils. She had a kind, motherly face, but she’d always covered herself with too much makeup for his liking, tried too hard with her hair and clothes, like she was clinging onto long gone youth. For crying out loud, she’d gone to school with his mother. She was no spring chicken.

But today Mary looked… different. He felt the awkwardness melting away.

PC Hamilton remained in the bedroom doorway, watching her watching him. He couldn’t put his finger on what was different about her today. In fact, he decided, there wasn’t anything specific, she just looked… right. Motherly. But it was more than that. He took a few steps further into the room then stopped and knelt down next to her, wanting to help, wanting to be sure she was okay. ‘You sure you’re all right?’

Mary lifted a hand and touched the side of his face. ‘Fine,’ she said, her voice an alluring, airy whisper.

He tried to move, but he was rooted to the spot by her serene beauty. His mouth was dry, his pulse quickening. He’d never thought of Mary in this way before. It was hard to accept, but he realised he wanted her.

What the hell? Don’t be stupid, man. She’s old and greasy… this is Mary from the café for crying out loud…

But there was no denying the attraction. She still had her hand on his face and he leant against her touch, then he pushed himself even closer and kissed her cheek and revelled in the closeness. Her smell… oh, her smell… words couldn’t express how it made him feel inside. So natural, so right . He felt a burning in his gut now that he fought hard to ignore. He wanted her, but he knew that was ridiculous. I’m twenty-seven, she’s got to be almost seventy… It wasn’t going to happen. Not here. Not now. Not Mary. It was wrong on every conceivable level.

But that burning was getting stronger. He couldn’t understand it, but he couldn’t dismiss it either. He’d known her for more than twenty years, but had never appreciated her like this before. Why hadn’t he seen it until today? And she felt it too, he knew she did. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him… The way her breathing had changed: light with frequent fluttering gasps now, like the way Meryl’s breathing changed when they made love together. Not when they fucked while her dad was out and not how it was when she was on about having kids again and sex was contrived, but how they connected in those rare moments when circumstances and emotions combined and collided perfectly, when they had the kind of sex that made him feel alive, more than human.

He knew Mary would make him feel that way this morning. He wanted her and he knew she wanted him. She had her hand on his crotch. There was a wet patch on the front of his uniform trousers.

PC Hamilton peeled Mary’s dress completely open. She shuffled around and lay down flat on the floor for him, her saggy breasts parting as gravity pulled them in different directions, a roll of fat hanging down over her waist as if she was wearing a string belt beneath it. The sudden shared passion was undeniable. She opened her legs. Moist. Ready . That excited him even more and he hurriedly stripped, kicking off his trousers and underwear. He crouched down beside her, cock hard, still not understanding why but knowing that all he wanted was Mary.

No foreplay. No words.

My god, he’d never seen anything as beautiful as this woman at this precise moment. The roadmap of broken veins on her thighs, her breasts like bags of grain, the mole on her hip the size of a coin, her unkempt bush of wiry grey pubic hairs, streaks of cellulite…

And nothing mattered but the two of them. Nothing mattered but the sex.

He sat astride her and she took him deep and hard.

Word spread fast about Scott. But then again, word spread fast about everything in Thussock. Tammy and Phoebe didn’t go to school and Michelle didn’t take George to toddler group. She spent the morning pacing around the kitchen, waiting for the phone to ring. The routine had been as familiar and frightening for her as it had for Scott; the endless waiting for news, the complete helplessness. The police had been as vague and unhelpful as expected. ‘Stay at home, Mrs Griffiths,’ was all they told her. ‘We can’t give you any information. We’ll contact you as soon as we’ve anything to tell you.’ A couple of phone calls with the lawyer they’d assigned to represent Scott followed, and Jackie called Michelle once the news reached her, but that was it. The gravity of the situation was undoubted, the outcome uncertain.

But as the day progressed, a strange sense of normality began to prevail. An engineer arrived to install a satellite dish and connect the TV. Michelle hadn’t even known Scott had arranged it. He never told her anything. Sometimes she felt like she hardly knew him.

By seven o’clock, frayed tempers and nerves had begun to repair. Tammy, Phoebe and George sat with their mother in the living room watching TV, catching up with the channels they’d missed. The doorbell rang and Michelle was out of her seat in a heartbeat, guts immediately churning again. It was Jackie, and she didn’t know how that made her feel. She was equally relieved and disappointed. ‘Come on in, Jackie,’ she said.

‘Only if you’re sure. I didn’t know whether to come round or not.’

Michelle eyed up the bottle of wine she’d brought with her. ‘You should definitely have come.’

After introducing her to the girls, Michelle took Jackie into the kitchen. The TV noise drifting through the house made everything feel deceptively normal. ‘Dez was in town yesterday afternoon,’ Jackie said. ‘He said Graham was acting weird. It’s not his fault, but that fella’s never been quite right, you know?’

‘I know, but that doesn’t mean he deserved to…’ She didn’t finish her sentence. Couldn’t finish it. Jackie put her hand on Michelle’s and topped up her already generous glass of wine. ‘You not drinking?’ Michelle asked.

‘I’m driving. Anyway, I bought this for you. Figured you’d be the one in need of alcohol.’

‘It’s appreciated. I can’t tell you how much.’

‘Like I said, love, I know where you’re at.’ Jackie watched Michelle, not knowing what she should say, or even if she should say anything at all. The building site state of the kitchen was a convenient distraction. ‘That’s quite a hole you have in your wall there.’