huh?’
‘Younger than me.’
He hadn’t been fishing for compliments and she sensed as much, deciding that he didn’t expect or want a reply.
Nayland pulled off the road, parking in a perfect vantage point above the lights and coursing veins of the city’s highways.
‘Time to breathe?’ Val asked.
He nodded and got out, moving to look at the view. He glanced down, pleased to note how the land fell away beneath them and rolled down through bushes and vines into a valley inhabited only by wildlife and trees. Perfect.
‘One day I think I’d like to move out up here,’ said Val, looking over his shoulder. ‘I’m a country girl at heart. I like wide-open spaces. I like to see the stars.’
A more arrogant actor might have told her she was looking at one right now but Nayland stayed silent. He just led her back to the car and took off that damned red dress he had made her wear.
Looking at her laid back on the warm bonnet of the car, a piece of lean barbecue on the skillet, he luxuriated in how different she was from Elizabeth. Where his wife was curved, Val was slender, a quiet body as opposed to the loudspeaker yell of voluptuousness that Hollywood had fallen in love with.
She reached out to Nayland, a reasonable pretence of lust to which he had the good grace to respond. Stripping off and savouring the feel of the breeze on a body he had no cause to be shy about in such undemanding company.
He made love to her, a change from the physical combat of sex with Elizabeth, and did his best to put himself in the moment, to get out of his head and take the time to be with this woman, on this hill, on this night. He was not so self-deluded as to imagine she might do the same.
When they’d finished he lay next to her while they smoked cigarettes and looked up at the stars she was so enamoured of. He realised he could no longer remember the names of any of them.
‘Now you can take your drug,’ he said. ‘Float away to wherever it is that you go and I’ll drive you home.’
He was slightly saddened at the speed with which she slid off the bonnet, eager for her fix.
Val picked up the red dress but he shook his head. ‘You don’t have to wear that any more. Put your own dress back on.’
She shrugged, reached into the passenger seat for her purse and then climbed into the back seat. Nayland smoked another cigarette, listening out for the sounds of her cooking up, the smell of toasting opiate filtering out of the window. He gave it another couple of minutes, then walked around to the back door and looked through the window. Val was lying there, eyes closed, drifting away to the only truly open space that she could find these days. Satisfied that she was out of it and no threat as a reliable witness, he opened the trunk, picked up Georgina and quickly threw her off the edge of the ravine. She tumbled away into darkness but he heard her continue to roll, snapping branches and crunching undergrowth for a good few seconds after he lost sight of her.
Nayland closed the trunk, got dressed and sat on the fender for a few more minutes to smoke yet another cigarette. He was in no rush to go home. He was in no rush to return to a life that offered nothing. How wonderful would it be just to keep driving? Val could stick around; they could drive down the coast, find somewhere quiet to kick back and just be.
He sighed. It sounded like the plot of a movie and that was one thing his life would never be. Nobody would film such a shambolic descent into self-pity.
He threw his cigarette stub into the canyon after the body of the maid and his last real chance of making good on a thoroughly wasted life.
Elizabeth woke up with her skin burning.
The awareness crept into her consciousness swiftly so that by the time her eyes were open she was gritting her teeth with the pain.
Next to her, Henry was snoring loudly so she rolled out of bed as carefully as she could and ran into the bathroom. What she saw in the mirror nearly
‘Younger than me.’
He hadn’t been fishing for compliments and she sensed as much, deciding that he didn’t expect or want a reply.
Nayland pulled off the road, parking in a perfect vantage point above the lights and coursing veins of the city’s highways.
‘Time to breathe?’ Val asked.
He nodded and got out, moving to look at the view. He glanced down, pleased to note how the land fell away beneath them and rolled down through bushes and vines into a valley inhabited only by wildlife and trees. Perfect.
‘One day I think I’d like to move out up here,’ said Val, looking over his shoulder. ‘I’m a country girl at heart. I like wide-open spaces. I like to see the stars.’
A more arrogant actor might have told her she was looking at one right now but Nayland stayed silent. He just led her back to the car and took off that damned red dress he had made her wear.
Looking at her laid back on the warm bonnet of the car, a piece of lean barbecue on the skillet, he luxuriated in how different she was from Elizabeth. Where his wife was curved, Val was slender, a quiet body as opposed to the loudspeaker yell of voluptuousness that Hollywood had fallen in love with.
She reached out to Nayland, a reasonable pretence of lust to which he had the good grace to respond. Stripping off and savouring the feel of the breeze on a body he had no cause to be shy about in such undemanding company.
He made love to her, a change from the physical combat of sex with Elizabeth, and did his best to put himself in the moment, to get out of his head and take the time to be with this woman, on this hill, on this night. He was not so self-deluded as to imagine she might do the same.
When they’d finished he lay next to her while they smoked cigarettes and looked up at the stars she was so enamoured of. He realised he could no longer remember the names of any of them.
‘Now you can take your drug,’ he said. ‘Float away to wherever it is that you go and I’ll drive you home.’
He was slightly saddened at the speed with which she slid off the bonnet, eager for her fix.
Val picked up the red dress but he shook his head. ‘You don’t have to wear that any more. Put your own dress back on.’
She shrugged, reached into the passenger seat for her purse and then climbed into the back seat. Nayland smoked another cigarette, listening out for the sounds of her cooking up, the smell of toasting opiate filtering out of the window. He gave it another couple of minutes, then walked around to the back door and looked through the window. Val was lying there, eyes closed, drifting away to the only truly open space that she could find these days. Satisfied that she was out of it and no threat as a reliable witness, he opened the trunk, picked up Georgina and quickly threw her off the edge of the ravine. She tumbled away into darkness but he heard her continue to roll, snapping branches and crunching undergrowth for a good few seconds after he lost sight of her.
Nayland closed the trunk, got dressed and sat on the fender for a few more minutes to smoke yet another cigarette. He was in no rush to go home. He was in no rush to return to a life that offered nothing. How wonderful would it be just to keep driving? Val could stick around; they could drive down the coast, find somewhere quiet to kick back and just be.
He sighed. It sounded like the plot of a movie and that was one thing his life would never be. Nobody would film such a shambolic descent into self-pity.
He threw his cigarette stub into the canyon after the body of the maid and his last real chance of making good on a thoroughly wasted life.
Elizabeth woke up with her skin burning.
The awareness crept into her consciousness swiftly so that by the time her eyes were open she was gritting her teeth with the pain.
Next to her, Henry was snoring loudly so she rolled out of bed as carefully as she could and ran into the bathroom. What she saw in the mirror nearly
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