Nicola Barker - Darkmans

Elen had her back to him. There was a tiny window (behind the chair) and she was standing, facing it, speaking on the phone—‘Fine,’ she said, abruptly, ‘then put him through…’

She gestured an impatient welcome over her shoulder (without turning) and indicated for Kane to take a seat. Her hair was loose, he noticed, hanging in a dark, shiny sheet down her back. She was wearing a thigh-length white overall (her black trousers and boots poking out underneath) with a disposable, plastic apron tied over the top.

Kane gently closed the door behind him and then did as she’d requested. He sat (it was his only real option — there was insufficient room to do anything else).

‘You’d better take off your coat,’ she murmured, covering the phone’s mouthpiece with her fingers, ‘and hang it up behind the door, there. I won’t be a minute…’ she paused, then cleared her throat, nervously. ‘Sorry about this…’ she added, ‘I wasn’t actually… Hello? Charles? Yes, hello, yes , it’s Elen…’

She sounded slightly breathless, Kane noticed; agitated — excited. He stood up, removed his crombie and debated where to hang it. There were two pegs behind the door; Elen’s soft, black jacket was hung on one of them; the other supported a worryingly familiar-looking Sainsbury’s bag–

Urgh.

Hawk

Kane opted to place his coat over the top of Elen’s. The mere act of eclipsing her pliant, soft, black garment with his own (much heavier, much stronger) afforded him a secret thrill. He stood facing the door for a moment, delicately tweaking the grey fabric (to ensure that her jacket was entirely obliterated), then caught himself in the act–

God—

Just sit down,

You pervert

He turned, a little sheepish, and retook his seat.

‘No… no , not at all ,’ Elen chatted away quietly, her voice barely even audible above the gentle creak of the building’s antiquated heating system, ‘in fact I really wanted to say…’

She paused again ‘…Exactly…Yes. Me too.’

She fiddled with the tie on her plastic apron. ‘I’d love to, but I’m actually with a client right now…’

Client?

Kane was traumatised.

‘…if you could possibly just…’

A client?

Is that…?

‘…yes…just hold on for a…’

‘Kane?’

Kane lifted his head, sharply. ‘What?’

‘Remove your boot and your sock and I’ll be with you in a moment.’

Oh.

Kane stared down at his foot, blankly.

‘Hello? Charles…?’

But I wasn’t…

He frowned.

‘Yes…’ Elen’s voice was — if possible — even lower now. ‘Well, podiatry is actually the American…’

Small chuckle

‘Yes.’

Pause.

‘No. No …’

Slightly more serious.

‘…although I’m sorry to have to say that your blanket didn’t quite survive yesterday’s adventure…’

Pause.

‘That’s extremely kind of you. I hope the mess wasn’t…?’

Elen bit her lip.

‘Well that’s something, at least…’

She peered down at her feet, modestly.

‘Thank you!’

Shy laugh.

As Kane listened to Elen’s conversation–

Who the hell is she talking to?

— he gradually became aware of a kind of dislocated drone–

Blanket?

He glanced up, somewhat listlessly–

Adventure?

— and saw a fly — a common house-fly–

Mess?

What kind of mess, exactly?

— rotating, senselessly, beneath the screw-in light fitment–

Is she actually flirting with this guy?

As Kane trailed the fly’s progress with his eye–

One circle, two circles, three circles…

Drop!

One circle, two circles…

— his sullen reverie was suddenly interrupted by an unexpectedly intimate physical sensation–

Eh?!

His head jerked around–

Wah?

It was Elen — Elen’s hand–

Her graceful hand

— gently adjusting the collar on his shirt. Kane closed his eyes for a second. He almost stopped breathing. Once the adjustment had been made, her hand–

Her lovely hand

— rested softly on his shoulder.

‘No. No . I insist on replacing it…’ Elen chatted away, amiably. Pause.

Rather more determinedly, ‘No, Charles, I really must …’

Long, slightly awkward silence.

Kane opened his eyes and glanced up at the light-fitment (almost insanely attuned to the weight of her fingers). He watched the fly, passively, feeling himself vibrating, internally, as if his intestines were being powered by a small battery–

‘I now see,

through practice,

that in many ways I am the fly,

that we have an identical energy…’

He blinked.

‘Yes…’ Elen murmured, ‘I did, too.’

Pause.

One circle, two circles…

‘Not at all. It was…I was…I was just incredibly flattered .’

Flattered?!

Kane stiffened–

How?

Why?

As if responding to Kane’s unease, Elen applied a comforting pressure to his shoulder, then lifted her hand and casually tucked a long, stray, blond wisp of his fringe behind his ear. Kane felt his ear heat up. He felt it glow.

‘Your boot…’

She was leaning towards him again, whispering. Kane blinked. He could feel her breath on his cheek. He automatically moved forward–

Stay, you fool!

— and began to remove it.

‘No, sorry, that was…’

Great amusement ‘… Exactly! ’

Elen turned towards the window again. An extremely long silence followed, and then, ‘What an amazingly generous offer!’

Pause.

‘I honestly…’

Delighted laugh ‘…I really don’t know what to say.’

Pause.

‘No. No . Don’t be silly. Not at all.’

Pause.

‘I’m sure Fleet would just…’

Pause.

‘He’d absolutely love it.’

Kane brusquely tucked his sock inside his boot, then inspected his bare foot. He felt uneasy at the sight of it–

Bare/Raw/Nude

— but wasn’t entirely sure why he should feel this way. It wasn’t a terrible foot, all things considered (he appraised it, dispassionately), although it didn’t look quite…there was something… uh …

His mind turned, briefly, to his mother’s feet — her magnificently messed-up dancer’s feet, her scarred and brutalised dancer’s toes — and then to his earliest memories of Elen–

ELEN GRASS

Chiropodist

— down on her knees, tending to them.

A powerful, erotic charge coursed through him–

Oh God—

Not…

He glanced into his lap, chewing on his lower lip, his eyebrows rising. He tucked his hands between his legs and tried to think of something else–

Anything

He gazed up at the fly again–

One circle, two circles, three…

— then he smiled, pensively (as if struck by a divine insight)–

Play

It’s just playing—

Surely?

‘The human mind,’ an officious voice promptly informed him, ‘can only disengage itself from the magic circle of play by turning towards the ultimate.’

Huh?

‘I read the first few chapters late last night,’ Elen murmured, ‘and it was so sad — so beautifully written — I could hardly bear to put it down…’