The Lover's Children novel Chapter 2

KLEMPNER

My eyes snap open to darkness…

A clicking sound…

Claws on concrete...

Was I awake as I heard it?

Or asleep?

Scratching and scraping…

A skritching noise…

Cold sweat soaks the sheet under me. My hand, of its own volition, slams toward the light switch. But before I reach it, something cold and wet shoves at my face: Bear’s nose.

My heart gives a mighty slam…

Christ...

… and I snatch for air.

Pull yourself together man...

Heartbeat decelerating, I switch on the light anyway. Bear wriggles his backside in an ecstasy of wagging, poking at me with his snout, claws tap-tapping on the hard floor, then muffling as they snag on the bedside rug.

Reaching from under the blankets, I scratch an ear, keeping my voice low, trying not to disturb Mitch. “Good boy.”

He blows air in my face, sweet and a little meaty, gives my hand a perfunctory lick, then huffs, dropping to the rug. Head on paws, he faces the door, eyes drooping.

No rat’s going to get past him…

A short-cut to snacks…

I roll onto my back, staring up, reluctant to switch off the lamp. Bear’s breathing grows steady and slow.

Turn off the light…

…

Turn off the fucking light…

There’s nothing there in the dark that’s not there in the light…

Inhaling, feeling the rise and fall of my chest, the quickening of my heartbeat again, still I hesitate…

You’re a grown man…

Half the world is scared shitless of you…

So, what the fuck’s the matter?

… then flick off the light-switch.

Staring into the gloom, I become conscious of the warmth of the body beside mine: warm, comforting…

Mitch…

I roll again, this time to face my wife…

My wife…

All I ever wished for…

She’s watching me, her eyes a green and white glint against the dark, fixed on mine. Drawing close, she contours herself to me. Her hands in my hair, stroking, wordless, she opens her mouth over mine.

*****

GEORGIE

Leaning in close to the mirror, I apply another layer of mascara. My eyes are one of my best features. But by comparison, dark as they are, my eyelashes look vitamin-deficient if I don’t give them some help.

What else?

A little more colour on the lips...

Poking through my make-up bag, I pick out a dark flesh tone, then hesitate…

Something brighter? A strong red?

I have the colouring to carry it off, but…

Date Number Three

Don't want to look like a flamenco dancer…

I have no complaints about inheriting my father’s strong, dark appearance. Unlike some of my blonde colleagues, men don’t tend to make assumptions about my intelligence. On the other hand, I prefer not to look as though I should be dancing with a rose between my teeth.

I brush on lipstick, apply a touch of gloss, then stand back to survey the result.

Not bad…

I straighten up, smooth down my dress…

Lower heels maybe?

No… he’s tall enough not to worry about it…

I turn, considering…

Hair up?

No… Date three…

Keep it casual…

A glance at the clock…

Ten minutes…

There’s no point going out yet. I’d only be waiting out in the cold. Still, I put on my warmest coat, pacing the room…

It’s a pleasant room, in the Hotel-Guest-Room way of things…

I really should move out of here.

Can’t keep living here rent-free… Relying on the charity of others…

Well… Michael and Charlotte…

…

Not back to Mom’s though.

Get a place of my own…

Earning enough now… For somewhere basic at least…

Wish academics got paid a bit more…

Maybe Dad would help?

My phone Pings with an incoming message.

Arrived early?