Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [24]
"We'll need to get more tomorrow," Effie said.
"Don't we have enough?"
"Even if we take her to the toilet every couple of hours, there's no guarantee she won't have an accident between times. She can go through three or four a day."
"She can? That's a lot of nappies."
"Incontinence pads," Effie said.
"That's too many sylla-whatever-they're-calleds."
"Syllables? Try 'pads', then."
"What's wrong with nappies?"
"Babies wear nappies. Mum's not a baby."
That was Park told. "Oh, I'll need a nightie for her too."
Effie told him where to find it and suggested some wipes might come in handy to clean her with.
He said goodnight again, and eventually got all the gear gathered round him in the sitting room, and then tried to get Liz to lie down. She wasn't great at following new instructions. You could get her to walk easily enough by taking her hand and leading the way. She'd sit if you gave her a chair. She'd lie down if you pulled back the bed covers. But getting her to lie down on the floor proved to be a challenge.
Park lay down first, hoping a practical demonstration would help.
But she wouldn't look at him. The TV was still on, some chat show, volume low, but she wasn't looking at that either. She was staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.
Park got to his feet, wedged his hands under her arms and lifted her towards him. He balanced her easily with one hand, scooped her legs up with the other. Held her in his arms for a minute, then got down on one knee, then the other. Laid her down gently, like she was asleep and he didn't want to wake her.
She was wearing a skirt, zip at the side. Got that off okay, just tearing the fabric a bit before he realised he'd have to lift her bottom up for her. Course, that meant having to press against the nappy and risk squashing its contents. Not a good idea. So he figured out how to roll her onto her side, tug the skirt down, then roll her onto her other side, tug that down. Did that a few times and the skirt came off.
"Easy, sweetheart," he said.
The smell was much stronger now. Big difference between changing a baby's nappy and changing an adult's. Much meatier.
The nappy was baby blue. Had a thin green line running up the centre of it. He pulled the tabs apart and it opened.
"Ah, Jesus," he said, the stink getting up his nose. "Sorry, Liz, but that's rank."
He raised her legs, held them out of the way while he folded up the nappy.
Grabbed a wet wipe. Took two more to get her properly clean.
A rash dotted outwards towards her thighs. He gave that a wiped, too.
This was how they used to fuck. Liz lying on her back, her legs over his shoulders.
He lowered her legs. Her thatch of near-black hair reached to her belly button. And the hair was thick. He remembered that. It was always thick and wiry. He liked it that way. Wild and out of control.
Fuck it, he wanted her.
Was there something wrong with him that he felt like this? She was his wife and she was half-naked and he hadn't had a shag in over five years.
Not as if he'd be doing something wrong if he screwed her now. If she could make a choice one way or the other, she'd want to do it too. Right?
But she couldn't make a choice.
There were other options, of course. He could go elsewhere, pay for it. Liz wouldn't mind. She wouldn't know anything about it. But he didn't want sex with just any woman. He wanted Liz.
He bent over, kissed her. Her lips were dry, unresponsive.
He should get rid of the nappy, the used wipes, get her ready for bed.
But first he lay down beside her, placed his cheek on her belly. The chatter on the TV dulled.
She was warm and soft and her belly rumbled. He wondered what she was trying to say.
***
BEEF STEW FOR dinner the next night. Martin had made it, and like everything he cooked, it was frigging delicious. Afterwards, they all sat in the sitting room, sinking a few pints, Effie and Martin snuggled up on the settee, Liz beside them. Park sat on the arm until the pressure on the base