Louise Welsh - Naming the Bones

‘How does it look?’

‘Perfect, thanks. Safe from peeping Toms.’

She held onto the ladder as he descended. He turned, ready to step from it, and glimpsed the hollow between her breasts. He imagined each one snug in its lace cup. Sometimes he wished he could smother his sex drive. It was like a second pulse, forcing his blood, fiercer than his heart.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘What?’

‘Have you had your dinner? Your “tea”, as Alan would have said?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘I was going to order Chinese. Would you like to join me?’

If she hadn’t mentioned her dead husband he might have declined, but somehow his presence made it safe. She phoned in their order while he climbed the ladder again and replaced the absent light bulb in the hallway.

The door to Lewis’s room was ajar. Murray clicked on the hall light to check it was working and then pushed the boy’s bedroom door wide. Audrey must have started her unpacking here. It was messy, but it was a young boy’s normal untidiness rather than the disorder caused by moving.

Posters of fluffy animals and pumped-up superheroes hung on the wall; a small bookcase stacked with books sat next to a comfortable armchair perfect for an adult and child to squash in together and share a story. Lewis’s quilt cover was printed with a picture of a wide-eyed cartoon character Murray didn’t recognise. On the bedside table, next to the nightlight, was a framed photograph of a man in climbing gear hanging onto a rock face somewhere high above the world. A grin split the man’s face, emphasising the deep creases radiating from the corners of his eyes. Alan Garrett looked more alive than anyone Murray could remember seeing.

‘Do you have children?’

He hadn’t heard her come off the phone and her voice startled him.

‘No, not yet.’ He turned towards her. The light bulb he’d used was too high a wattage, it stung his eyes and seemed to bleach the colour from her skin. ‘I’d have to find a wife first. ’

‘Very proper of you.’

‘I’m a proper kind of guy.’

She was standing close to him now.

He wasn’t sure.

Then he was and they were kissing. He slid his hands down the back of her trousers, feeling the smooth roundness of her, slid his fingers up the ridge of her spine, managing for once to undo her bra in one fumbling movement, feeling her gasp. He backed into the room, towards the cartoon-covered bed, holding her close, their lips pressed together.

She pulled away. ‘No, not here.’ And led him through to the sitting room.

He realised he didn’t have a condom, wondered guiltily if she slept around, if she wanted another child, even. They were on the couch now, his hand roaming beneath her top, her fingers pushing under his jumper, below his T-shirt, skin touching skin.

‘I don’t have anything, protection.’

She pulled her top off.

‘It’s okay, I do.’

Her breasts were almost as he had imagined them, high and rounded; the nipples stiff and proud.

He lowered his head.

‘Wait.’ She slid from him. ‘I’ll only be a second.’

Murray watched as she left the room, taking in her smooth back, the faint hint of a tan-line, remnant of some earlier holiday. The door swung gently behind her and he was alone, wondering what the fuck he was doing.

He kicked off his shoes and hauled his jumper and T-shirt over his head in one swift movement, averting his eyes from Alan Garrett’s boxes of research and pushing the university code of ethics from his mind. Then she was back, stripped and clutching a packet of condoms. Murray thought he’d never seen a woman who looked so natural, so right, naked. He got rid of the rest of his clothes, pulled her towards him and onto the sofa.

The doorbell rang just as they finished. Murray flinched and Audrey laughed, ‘Perfect timing.’ She walked naked from the room. There was a second ring and he heard her shout, ‘Two secs, just finding my purse.’

He pulled his clothes back on, wondering if the urge to sneak away was social awkwardness or some deeper evolutionary instinct. The aroma of Chinese food wafted into the room, a sweet scent suffused with a hot tang; jasmine and chillies. He hadn’t eaten since that morning and was suddenly ravenous. Was this all he was, a creature ruled by appetites?

He found Audrey in the kitchen wrapped in a long cotton robe, taking the fast-food cartons from a carrier bag and setting them on the newly installed kitchen table. She looked like Lewis’s mum again. Could she consciously turn her sex appeal on and off, or was it another of nature’s tricks? He put his arms awkwardly around her and gave her a squeeze. Her body stiffened and he released her. Audrey screwed up the empty plastic bag the food had came in and flung it towards the piles of boxes.

‘I could get used to being a slob.’ She peeled back the paper lids from the cartons, stuck a spoon in each of them and handed Murray a plate. ‘Mrs Wong’s finest. Tuck in.’

The room was too dark for them to see their food properly. Murray noticed two unlit candles on the table. Perhaps the matches were lost too, packed away in the same box as the kettle and the corkscrew. They ate in silence for a moment, then she jumped to her feet and fetched the wine.

‘Sorry, I forgot.’

Murray felt her nervousness and knew he should say something to put her at ease. He poked at a piece of pork with the wooden chopsticks the restaurant provided.

‘This is great, good food.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled as if he had said something amusing. ‘Are you going to go to the island?’

‘Lismore?’

‘Where else?’

‘Yes.’ He hesitated, looking at the unlit candles. ‘Sooner or later.’

‘And will you meet her?’

‘Who?’

‘Christie Graves, his old sweetheart.’

‘I’d like to, but she doesn’t seem too keen on meeting me.’

‘I’m surprised. She struck me as a man’s woman.’ He looked up at Audrey and she said, ‘Did I tell you that I met her?’

‘No.’ He wondered if she knew how important Christie was to Lunan’s story. ‘What was she like?’

‘Creepy. She came to Alan’s funeral.’

‘Here in Glasgow?’

‘I was hardly going to have him buried over there.’

‘No, I guess not. Sorry.’

Audrey sighed.

‘It should be me that’s sorry. I’m such a grinch sometimes.’ She forced a cheerless smile. ‘I didn’t like her.’

‘Christie?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s hard to say, exactly. She did all the right stuff, arrived in good time, said lovely things about Alan. She even brought me some photographs of him in his last days there, beautiful photos, much better than I ever took. But I didn’t like her. None of it seemed sincere. I felt she was playing the part of a concerned acquaintance. She spoke well, her tone of voice was just as it should be, her face arranged in a sad expression. But I kept on feeling that if I turned my head suddenly, I might catch her smirking. That’s a horrid thing to say, isn’t it? But it’s true. She gave me the creeps.’ Audrey paused and they sat in silence for a moment, their food forgotten. ‘She asked me if I would like to visit the island, invited me to stay with her.’

‘Did you go?’

‘Yes, but not to her. My mother came with me and we stayed in a little B&B. I’m afraid I neglected to get in touch with Miss Graves, but of course inevitably we bumped into her one day at the shop. She was charm itself. My mother thought she was delightful, but she made my flesh crawl.’ Audrey sighed. ‘Perhaps that’s inevitable too. You see, Alan was coming back from her house when he crashed.’

‘But you don’t think it was anything to do with her?’