her what happened in the past. And what had he done since? What had Charles said? Harvey lingered over a breakfast, identical to the one the day before in all but his companion. It somehow didn't taste as good, nor when he patted the drum of his belly did it feel nearly as satisfying. She had gone to Jeff. That was the only salient point as far as he could see, it was certainly the one that he could most immediately understand. She had gone to Jeff.
Did that mean that she had gone back to Jeff? Or did it mean she was meeting him for a coffee and a chat about old times: 'I hear you got whipped', 'Yeah', 'Right, see you later' sort of thing. Harvey tried this on in his mind but was unhappy with it. Why go right now? Why not wait so they could leave together today? Why not do it by phone? Why do it at all? He shook his head over the coffee and observed specks of dandruff settle on its surface. His hair was growing, he hadn't had time to get it shaved for two weeks. He needed to consider his position. It would mean him paying for the room, of course, and he'd sort of hoped they'd go Dutch. But that, he insisted firmly to himself, was the least of the issues. It was seventy pound a night, mind, but that was unimportant. He did the sigh. Maybe she'd be sitting swinging her legs on the counter of his shop when he got home. Maybe she'd be standing outside Inaction Comix waiting in the rain, her eyes filled with tears of remorse. Maybe. He took himself out onto the the headland for a breath of fresh air and smoked a cigarette while he did it. His mind ran over the events of yesterday. Had something changed? How had a completely spontaneous shag on the rocks transformed into that note? For all the thinking he did he could not find the point of change, the moment of reverse alchemy that turned gold into base rubbish. With heavy heart he returned to his room – that had been their room – packed his bags and paid the extortionate bill: more than he'd anticipated because he'd forgotten that breakfast wasn't included. On the walk to the station he was just passing Sainsbury's when his mother came out carrying two plastic bags of shopping and it was only by dropping to his knees behind a parked car and lying on his side in the public thoroughfare that he avoided being seen. Then stealthily – shocked into a vivid attention by the closeness of this encounter – he slunk to the station and boarded the 10.47to Penzance and from there a direct connection back to London.
Chapter Thirty-six
Maisie stood outside the house she had lived in for eight years, and looked at it for the first time. Often, in the past, her sight had been edged with a bitterness that she saw now as having a reddish hue. But the redness was gone and she was almost surprised to find that it was actually a rather pretty blonde house, built of the local white stone. She did know it: it had so much of her in it, yet she was looking for the first time with the option of not entering, of turning and walking away. She thought for a moment of the mole in The Wind in the Willows hearing the call of home and his whole body trembling with the awareness of it. This was her home and she felt it recognise her and send out its tendrils of welcome. Turning would be hard now, the betrayal greater than it had been before. With a sigh that Harvey would have admired, she hoisted her neat travel case and walked up to the front door. How odd to ring this bell, how odd not to know if anyone was home, and, if they were, how they might receive this particular guest. Her finger paused for a moment over the button and then with an almost impetuous flourish gave two sharp rings.
The pause was the worst bit. She could still run. If he was upstairs, or down in the kitchen, she would be away behind the bushes before he got to the door; he probably wouldn't come out down the front garden and into the street. He would think it was a joke or an error and she