Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [88]
Then he recognized Bryn’s voice and knew his only real option was to sit tight and wait for this situation’s inevitable climax.
Goodhew leant back and stared upwards into the darkest part of the confined space, probably straight up the skirt of one of Lorna’s little black dresses. The bed springs kept creaking along in the key of F, and he didn’t dare look out through the gap in the door.
When he and Bryn had been sitting in the same class and the teachers asked the children what they thought they’d be doing in fifteen years’ time, he hadn’t pictured this. Strange really.
After about another five minutes, the creaking ceased and he sneaked a glance. He was just in time to see Victoria climbing astride Bryn and off they went again. The springs changed key and picked up in tempo. A few seconds later, they were moving faster and faster still; it was starting to remind him of the end of ‘Come On, Eileen’. Goodhew closed his eyes till he judged it was safe to take another look.
Bryn was lying on his back with his trousers tangled around his calves, but Victoria had slid off the bed and was reaching for her skirt.
‘I’m cold now,’ she explained quietly, but Bryn stared at her and didn’t move. She picked up her underwear. She slipped her feet into her shoes and began buttoning her blouse.
He watched, unblinking.
‘That certainly lived up to expectations,’ she remarked coldly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I got what I expected. Mediocre.’ Bryn didn’t move. ‘I’d stick with the cars,’ Victoria continued, ‘you’ve probably got some talent for tinkering with them.’
Bryn stiffened. ‘What are you on about?’
‘Lorna.’
‘What about her?’
Victoria stood and faced him full on. ‘To think I fell out with her over you. But now I’ve proved she never mattered to you. For your information, I was so over you when we did this.’
‘Bollocks.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘It’s bollocks. You must think I’m stupid. Lorna wasn’t interested in me, any more than you were. So what’s the big deal about proving you can shag me on Lorna’s bed?’
Bryn had only gone as far as rolling on to his side and raising himself on one elbow. If she had expected him to be irate, she would have been disappointed.
‘What’s the real reason then?’ he insisted.
When she turned her head away from Bryn, Goodhew knew he was now in her line of sight, and could only pray that her attention remained elsewhere.
‘Believe what you want, but I’m telling you, she was jealous about us two. And I’m glad we did it in here, because in the end I hated her.’
‘There wasn’t any diary, was there?’
‘So now I’m a liar? You’re sick.’
‘I’m sick? You got me in here with the sole idea of trashing Lorna, even though she’s dead, and I’m sick?’
‘Like you weren’t up for it,’ she sneered.
This time Bryn reacted like she’d gone too far. ‘Enough.’ He growled and began to pull up his trousers. ‘I admit it, I was up for it. You offered, and I accepted. But you – you’re in a whole other league.’
‘You slept with Lorna, and felt jealous,’ Victoria goaded. ‘Then I slept with you, and she was the jealous one. Looking at you now, no, I don’t understand it, but that’s how it was. I like to settle scores, Bryn.’ She hitched her skirt up a few inches with one hand, and rubbed the other between her legs until it was wet and shiny with his semen, then she smeared it across the mattress.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Bryn spluttered.
Victoria now had her back to him, facing the wardrobe, and appeared to be staring straight at Goodhew. Suddenly her hand flew towards the twin doors and slammed them shut. ‘That was a message just for Lorna and you.’ Her voice was sharp enough to penetrate the plywood doors. ‘A fuck-off message, if you like.’
Goodhew heard her hurrying away, heading off through the unlit flat and down into the street.
Goodhew listened carefully; he’d only heard