The Lover's Children novel Chapter 92

PAT

It’s not right…

It’s not fucking right.

Walking out, I choose my route, trudging through the swelter of the City summer afternoon, keeping to the shade wherever I can. Even so, it’s exhausting.

Leaning back against a wall for a breather, I inhale air sticky with traffic fumes, then curse as the heat of the brickwork penetrates my clothes. I might as well be resting against a boiler. Under my soles, asphalt and concrete radiate up, until my feet feel like slabs of meat.

It does nothing to improve my mood.

Jerking upright again, I continue my walk, trying to throw off a kind of gritty depression. Normally, after I’ve paid her, I’m relaxed. Euphoric. Almost cleansed.

This time, I'm empty.

It just wasn’t right.

Cheating Chestnut with her cheating, faked hair.

I thought it would be enough.

I was wrong.

Won’t make that mistake again.

Lily…

The way you move when you dance…

That line where the curve of your throat meets your blouse…

The air feels too thick to breathe. It’s giving me a headache just trying.

Cooler air…

I’ve got to get out of this heat…

The park…

Green and leafy, the park will be the best place to be. Nothing beats green shade. My feet turn for the square, with the cool and grassy park beyond, and I follow, considering my mistake.

I’ve only myself to blame, I suppose. When I realised I couldn’t have Lily, I should have taken the time to find someone better, waited until I found the right one.

Lily…

Your beautiful hair…

The way it sways as you move…

Rippling and flowing…

Swinging over you shoulders and breasts. Outlining your waist and hips…

Disappointment and the blistering temperatures batter my brain. I can’t think straight.

Crossing the square, the heat and the humidity has all but brought the City to a standstill. Commercial traffic grinds past, trucks and delivery vans, but few other drivers. Pedestrians have retreated to the cover of sunshades, canopies and awnings. Beyond them, the park gates call, verdant and inviting.

Lily…

Not a hooker…

So, that wouldn't be right either…

But I want you…

As I pass through the gate, I kick off my trainers, tramping barefoot across clipped grass for the shade of an old chestnut at the top of the lawned slopes. Flopping down by the trunk, under its boughs, where turf gives way to bare dry earth, I snatch at the barely-cooler air with heaving lungs, Swiping over my dripping forehead, sweat stains my sleeve. But as the shade laves my face, my thoughts coalesce…

I dart a glance one way, then the other…

No one nearby…

… then, fumbling for what I have in my pocket, I take it out…

I tied it carefully, as I always do. But I didn’t spend a lot on the ribbon. Chestnut wasn’t worth it.

Still, draping it over my hand, I can admire the lock of hair; sleek and smooth, chestnut brown. The sunlight brings out a glint of red. As I draw it over my palm the glint shimmers with the movement, and the long strands tickle my skin.

It might have been Chestnut’s fake, but it must have cost her a lot, that wig. I’m pretty sure it's real hair. It looks and moves like the genuine article.

Holding the lock of hair to my face, I inhale. It still smells of her.

Shampoo…

Cheap perfume…

The scent of her fear…

… as she realised who I am.

Realised she was going to pay.

Realised it was the end.

Cheating Chestnut…

You’ll not cheat anyone else…

I breathe deep. Take in the aroma. Let it wash through my nose and mouth, bathe my lungs.

And again…

…

It should help me feel better…

But it’s just not the same.

…

Still… It’s just one of those things.

Nothing to get upset about.

Move on.

Sighing, I stuff the miserable thing back in my pocket. When I get home, I’ll put it with the others. But it can go at the back, the place it deserves.

The afternoon draws toward early evening, and a whisper of breeze rises. I inhale deeply, and a thought occurs to me.