Chris Cleave - Incendiary

—What about him? said Petra.

—If I do this thing won’t he be in a lot of trouble?

—Do you even care? said Petra.

—I don’t know. I don’t know. He says he loves me.

—Loves you, said Petra. As much as you loved your boy?

—Well it’s not the same thing is it? It’s not the same thing at all.

Petra smiled and Jasper looked down at the floor.

—Ah, said Petra. Finally she gets it.

The Travelodge was near Liverpool Street and I sat in the bar waiting for Terence Butcher to come in from work. I was waiting for hours but that was alright. It was cosy and dark in the bar and they left me alone except when I asked them for drinks. I must of had 5 or 6 G&Ts and it was nice just sitting there in a bit of a fog while my boy scampered around in the lobby up to mischief I shouldn’t wonder. The girl at the reception desk was very helpful when I asked her to check if Terence Butcher was staying there and the barman was very helpful when I asked him to only serve me doubles in fact all the staff were very helpful Osama so if you ever find yourself needing to break a long journey in between massacres I reckon you could do a lot worse than a Travelodge.

It was nearly 11 when Terence Butcher finally showed up. I’d chosen a seat at one of those low tables where I could see when he came in the front entrance but I needn’t of bothered because he went straight to the bar and ordered a double Scotch. I got up and I went over to him. It wasn’t a long way but things weren’t too steady and I had to hold on to the backs of the chairs to stop the Travelodge from wobbling. I tapped Terence on the shoulder and he turned round from the bar looking tired and ill but he smiled when he saw me. It wasn’t your ordinary smile it was sort of laughing and lost at the same time like when someone makes a good joke at a funeral.

—What are you doing here? he said.

—I thought you might need tea or filing.

Terence smiled and held on to my arm like he was worried I might keel over and I suppose he did have a point.

—You shouldn’t have come, he said. Why did you?

—I’m not sure yet.

It was true Osama my head was in pieces from pills and gin I didn’t know what I was going to do. Mr. Rabbit was in my bag and he had Jasper’s video camera sewn in his tummy with this tiny lens sticking out. All I had to do was sit the little feller somewhere he could see what was going on and press RECORD and get Terence Butcher to talk. But there was a bunch of old photos in my bag too. They were of my husband and my boy and me mucking around in the flat and in Victoria Park and one of us all with ice creams on the beach at Brighton. I looked up at Terence and I held on to his arm and I giggled on account of I couldn’t work out if I was there to stitch him up or talk him through the family album.

—Are you alright? said Terence.

—Nah. Are you going to take me to bed?

—Bed? he said. Last time I checked you were never going to speak to me again.

—Yeah well I’m not promising I’ll speak in bed.

Terence laughed then and drained his Scotch and signalled at the barman for another.

—You’re drunk, he said. Maybe you should just go home.

I blinked and rocked back and forward on my pins for a second I mean I wasn’t expecting that.

—Listen Terence Butcher I’m drunk cause I’ve been waiting here 5 hours for you and I haven’t waited 5 hours so you can tell me you don’t even care.

The barman brought the new Scotch and Terence looked down into it and swirled the glass round in his hand so the ice cubes rattled. Then he looked at me and those grey eyes were flashing pink with the neon from the bar.

—I do care, he said. More than you know. That’s why I think it might be best if you just went home.

—Yeah but I want to be with you.

—No you don’t, he said. You told me so.

Terence Butcher put his hand under my chin and turned my face round very gentle so I was looking straight up in his eyes.

—There, he said. Look right at me and tell me you don’t see a murderer.

I opened my mouth but I couldn’t say anything all I could see was fire in his eyes from all those neon reflections and I gasped.

—There, he said. Tell me it wouldn’t always be like that. Over coffee. Over drinks. Every night in the bathroom mirror brushing our teeth.

My legs went to rubber and I could feel the strength of him under his shirt and I knew if I kept hold of him I’d do us both wrong but I knew if I let go I’d fall down flat on the floor.

—Oh I don’t know Terence I’m lost. Please won’t you just hold me I’m completely lost.

There’s a lot of things we’ve got in common these days Osama but here’s one thing you’ll never do. I bet you’ll never let yourself be done in a Travelodge by the man who left your chaps to die. I bit my lip in case the pain would take my mind off the shivers that were racing up my back. I bit until the blood came but it wasn’t any use. In my head I was hating Terence but my body was still in love. I wanted to say I hate you you vicious lying coward YOU KNEW but you still left my chaps to die. YOU KNEW in that time we had together in the clouds. For months and months YOU KNEW. I was trying to make my mouth say all that Osama I swear to you but all that came out was moans.

I gasped and I twisted my head on the pillow and my eyes were rolling back in my head and then nothing. I lay on the bed with Terence on top of me and the flames flickered out in his eyes and there was nothing. Just grey smoke smouldering and my boy sitting on the edge of the empty bath next door and kicking his heels on the enamel bang bang bang.

Afterwards I let Terence lie inside me for a little while. Nice and quiet with his head on my shoulder while I stroked the back of his neck. Mr. Rabbit sitting watching us from the chair beside my bag.

—Lovely Terence. I missed you so much.

—Mmm, he said.

Silence.

—Terence. I’ve been thinking. If you had another chance to decide what to do on May Day. Would you make the same choice again?

Terence sighed and I felt his muscles go all tight again.

—Do you really want to think about it now? he said.

—I have to know.

Terence Butcher pulled out of me and rolled on his back. He reached over for his Marlboro Reds and he lit one and I lit one too.

—It’s hard to say if I’d do the same again, he said. There were so many factors.

—Tell me all about it.

He nodded and gave a little smile and took a drag of his ciggie and blew smoke out very slowly up towards the ceiling. He turned towards me and gave me such a sad look then. I think he knew what was going on. He looked at me like our old dog looked at me and my husband the day we reckoned the kindest thing we could do for him was give him his favourite food and wrap him up in his favourite blanket and drive him one last time to the vet in the boot of our old Astra.

—Do I have to? he said.

I couldn’t look at him and my voice came out very quiet.

—I have to.

Terence Butcher nodded. Then he lit another ciggie and sat up in the bed and told me everything very slow and careful and clear like his voice was typed in capital letters. When he’d finished he didn’t even look at me he just lay down and slept like I reckon he hadn’t slept since May Day and there was this strange expression on his face while he slept very sad and calm like the stone men you see in churchyards.

It was 5 a.m. when I left it was still dark. The courier was waiting outside the Travelodge just like Jasper and Petra said he would be. I gave him Mr. Rabbit with his camera inside and the courier got on his bike and I got on the number 23 bus. I got off at Piccadilly Circus and I checked in at the Golden Square Hotel. I chose it because I saw it once when I took my boy to the Trocadero and I thought it looked quite fancy. Actually it’s a filthy place Osama but it is cheap. I stayed there for 4 days just waiting for Sunday and no one knew where I was not even Petra and Jasper. Jasper said it’d be best that way.