Part 10 (1/2)

Sarah lay on her side on the sheets. Her neck was arched, her head flung back, and her expensively coiffed hair plastered to her perspiring face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open, emitting low-pitched animal grunts.

A man lay beside her, his pelvis locked with hers in a slow shudder. The mans thick limbs were dense with black hair. The muscles of his white b.u.t.tocks bunched and relaxed rhythmically. Sarah had one foot on the knee of the opposite leg, making a triangle; and the man squeezed the flesh of the inside of her raised thigh as he murmured obscenities in a deep, clear voice.

On the bed behind Sarah lay a second man. He had blond hair, and his white face was slightly spotty. His hips and Sarahs bottom fitted together like spoons in a drawer. One hand curled around Sarahs body and squeezed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, one after the other.

It dawned on Julian that the two men were making love to her at the same time. That accounted for the curiously slow jerking of the three bodies. He watched, appalled.

The blond man saw him and gave a giggle. Weve got an audience, he said in a high voice.

The other man turned his head quickly, and they both stopped moving.

Sarah said: Its only my husband. Dont stop, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, please.

The dark man seized her hips and began to jerk more powerfully than before. The three of them lost interest in Julian. Sarah said, Oh yes, again and again.

Julian turned away. He felt weak and sickened; and something more. It was a long time since he had seen that rutting look on Sarahs face. He could not help but be aroused by it. But the trace of s.e.xual excitement was faint and uneasy.

He collapsed in the armchair again. They were making louder noises now, as if to mock him. His self-respect was demolished.

So that was what she needed to turn her on, he thought spitefully. It wasnt my fault at all. b.i.t.c.h, b.i.t.c.h. Julians humiliation turned to vindictiveness.

He wanted to humiliate her, as she had him. He would tell the world about the cow and her s.e.xual tastes, he would- Christ.

Suddenly he was thinking very clearly. His head felt as if he had just taken a long draft of cold champagne. He sat still for a few seconds, thinking fast. There was so little time.

He opened the darkened gla.s.s door of a cupboard against the wall and took out his Polaroid camera. It was loaded. He fitted the flash attachment quickly, and checked that there were bulbs. He set the focusing mechanism and the aperture.

The voices from the bedroom turned into shouts as he jumped up the stairs. He waited outside the bedroom, out of sight, for a moment. Sarah made a noise deep in her throat which gradually rose in pitch and loudness, a long, almost childlike cry. Julian knew that noise from the days when he had been able to make her do it.

As Sarahs cry turned into a scream Julian stepped into the room and raised the camera to his eye. Through the viewfinder he could see the three bodies moving in unison, their faces screwed up with exertion or ecstasy, their hands wildly grabbing fistfuls of flesh. Julian pressed the shutter, and there was a momentary, bright flash. The lovers did not seem to be aware of it.

He moved two steps closer, winding the film on as he went. He lifted the camera again and took a second shot. Then he moved sideways and took a third.

He went quickly out of the bedroom into the living room. He scrabbled in a drawer and found an envelope. There was a book of stamps beside it. He tore out twenty or thirty pence worth of stamps and stuck them on the envelope. He took a pen from his jacket pocket.

Where could he send it to? A piece of paper fluttered down to the ground, having been dragged out of his pocket with the pen. He recognized it as the sc.r.a.p on which he had written Samanthas address. He picked it up.

He wrote his own name on the envelope, then addressed it care of Samantha at the address on the sc.r.a.p. He ripped the exposed film in its paper wrapping out of the camera. He had bought the camera to photograph paintings. The film produced negatives as well as instant prints, but the negatives had to be immersed in water within eight minutes of the exposure. Julian took the film to the kitchen and filled a plastic bowl with water. He drummed his fingers on the draining-board in an agony of impatience while the image took form on the celluloid.

Finally he returned to the living room, the wet film in his hand. The dark man appeared at the bedroom door.

There was no time to put the pictures in the envelope. Julian dashed for the front door, and opened it just as the dark man caught up with him. He smashed the camera viciously into the mans face and leaped out of the door.

He raced up the street. The dark man was naked and could not follow. Julian stuffed the negatives in the envelope, sealed it, and posted it in the mailbox on the sidewalk.

He looked at the prints. They were very clear. All three faces could be seen, and there was no doubt about what they were doing.

Slowly, thoughtfully, Julian walked back to the house and let himself in. The voices from the bedroom were now raised in quarrelsome tones. Julian slammed the front door to make sure they knew he was there. He walked into the living room and sat down, looking at the photographs.

The dark man came out of the bedroom again, still naked. Sarah followed in a robe, and the spotty one came last, dressed only in a pair of obscenely small briefs.

The dark man wiped blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He looked at the red smear on his knuckles, and said: I could kill you.

Julian proffered the photographs. Youre very photogenic, he mocked. Hatred blazed in the mans dark brown eyes. He looked at the pictures.

You filthy little pervert, he said.

Julian burst out laughing.

The man said: What do you want?

Julian stopped laughing, and set his face in a hard sneer. He shouted: Get some f.u.c.king clothes on in my house!

The man hesitated, his fists bunching and relaxing spasmodically. Then he turned on his heel and went back to the bedroom.

The other man sat on a chair and curled his legs up underneath him. Sarah took a long cigarette from a box and lit it with a heavy table-lighter. She picked up the photographs where the dark man had dropped them. She looked at them briefly, then tore them into small pieces and dropped them in a waste-paper basket.

Julian said: The negatives are in a safe place.

There was a silence. The blond man seemed to be enjoying the excitement. Finally the dark man came back, dressed in a fawn safari jacket and a white polo-necked sweater.

Julian addressed the two men. Ive nothing against you, he said. I dont know who you are, and I dont want to. Youve nothing to fear from these pictures. Never come into this house again, that's all. Now get out.

The dark man went immediately. Julian waited while the other went into the bedroom, and came out a minute later, dressed in elegant Oxford bags and a short blouson jacket.

When he had gone Sarah lit another cigarette. Eventually she said: I suppose you want money.

Julian shook his head in negation. Ive taken it, he said. Sarah looked at him in surprise.

Before all ... this? she said.

I sold your car, he told her.

She showed no anger. There was a faintly strange light in her eyes which Julian could not interpret, and the trace of a smile at the comers of her mouth.

You stole my car, she said flatly.

I suppose so. Technically, Im not sure a man can steal from his wife.

And if I do something about it?

Such as?

I could ask my father.

And I could show him our happy family snapshots.

She nodded, slowly, her face still unreadable. I thought it would come down to that. She got up. I shall get dressed.