In At the Deep End Page 21
My muscles clench when he nudges his erection against me. So he strokes with his fingers and tells me how soft and sweet I am. How he’d never hurt me. He kisses my breasts with slow sweeps of his tongue. When he finally enters me I welcome the pressure, and the stretching. He shakes with the effort to go slowly. We’re halfway there when our eyes meet and I see the strain on his face. I can’t help laughing. He groans against my lips.
‘Don’t do that. You’re so fucking tight already.’
‘I’m sorry. How do you say that again?’
‘What?’
‘Sorry. In Norwegian.’
He takes a breath. ‘Jeg beklager.’
‘But that’s different from when you said it last time.’
‘That was a different sorry.’
‘How can there be different sorts of sorry?’
‘Harriet?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t have sex. And talk.’
Finally he’s all the way inside. He kisses me. A slow, wet, tender kiss. He pulls back and searches my face. ‘Are you all right?’
Ever since he touched me on the chaise lounge, this is what I’ve wanted. To hold him like this. I pull him even closer.
‘Yes.’
The rain flurries against the window. There’s a steady drip from the leak in the downpipe near the front door. He trembles when he moves inside my body. I taste the salty sweat on his shoulder and run my hand over his back. Soon his breathing is laboured. It’s like no matter how hard he thrusts he can’t get close enough.
I can barely make out his words. ‘I’m rushing you,’ he says.
I don’t want him to slow down. His desperation, his ferocity, is intoxicating. I grasp his hip and roll onto my back, pulling him on top of me.
He stills, his eyes black in the half-light. He frowns and kisses my eyes. Then he draws back and feels with his hand how deeply he’s buried inside me. He groans. ‘I’ll go too fast.’
I wrap my legs tightly around his waist, and lift my hips until our navels touch.
‘Please, Per. I want to hold you like this.’ I nip along his collarbone and he shudders. I match the strokes of his tongue when we kiss. He whispers words against my neck that I don’t understand. And as he climaxes he claims my mouth again, like he’s starved of the taste of me. When he collapses against my breasts I feel his heartbeats, fast and irregular. I stroke his hair, and tell him to breathe in time with me.
I’m not sure how long it is before he wakes. He has his breath back. My body is warm where he’s touching me, but a draught blows in from the hallway, cooling my arms and feet. When he tries to pull out I clench my legs to keep him where he is, and wrap my arms more firmly around his neck. He raises himself up on one elbow and brushes my hair away from my face. His eyes are heavy. ‘If I lose the condom, it’s risky. That all right?’
An image forms in my mind. Of a little boy with straight black hair that falls into his eyes. It frightens me. Imagine how much it would hurt to lose something as precious as that?
I push against his chest. ‘Don’t be long.’
When he gets back he leans over me, kisses my shoulder, and mutters, ‘We need a bigger bed.’
He lies down and pulls up the covers. He kisses my mouth, hard and deliberately, before he falls asleep in my arms again. I put the image of the little boy aside. Now I imagine Per and me in my cabin on The Watch. The wind is picking up. Gulls screech, so we can’t be far from land. Sea spray splashes against the porthole. I explore his body as the ship rocks on the swell.
The textures of his skin, the firmness of his shoulders, the soft hair on his forearms, the scar on his cheek. His capable hands. I’m lying on my back and he’s on his side, facing me. His arm lies flat on my belly and his fingers splay over my breast. His breath is warm against my throat. His long limbs are heavy, and trusting, in sleep.
CHAPTER
32
Per sleeps for an hour in my arms, and then he stretches. ‘I’ll make toast and coffee,’ he says.
I stretch too. ‘We can go back to the beach after that.’
After breakfast we pull on our wetsuits. They’re still wet because we left them in a sandy pile on the bathroom floor.
Per grumbles as we walk through the garden. ‘We’ve done enough for today. I’ll be back in two weeks. There’s no need to do this.’
I take his hand. ‘I want to do it.’ I open my mouth to try to explain about the accident, how I’m stronger than I thought I was, but the words get stuck in my throat.
‘Don’t rush it,’ he says. ‘It will come.’
I give him a shaky smile. ‘Thank you.’
A washed-out yellow sun breaks through the clouds as we walk over the dunes. Per peers at my face when the ocean comes into view. He’s checking that I’m okay but I’m studying him as well. His scar is long, and the edges are uneven. When I fell on the rock shelf he insisted I get tape on the cut.
‘You didn’t get stitches, did you?’ I say.
He frowns. Then he sighs. ‘Harriet …’
‘Tell me.’
He shakes his head. ‘No.’
‘Why not? It must have been serious. How old were you?’
‘Ten.’
‘Who was looking after you?’
‘I lived with my father.’
‘What about your mother, and your brother?’
‘My parents separated when Tør and I were two years old. Tør went with my mother to France.’
‘What? But you were just a baby. Why did—’
He squeezes my hand. ‘Leave this.’
I take a breath. ‘Okay. Just tell me how you got hurt.’
‘I fell through a roof.’
‘At ten?’ Why didn’t you see a doctor?’
‘I hid the wound from my father.’
‘What! How?’
‘Enough questions, Harriet.’
‘Does anyone know what happened?’
‘My brother.’
A surfer walks past, a board under his arm. He’s tall and wiry with scruffy hair. He grins. ‘Hey, Harriet. Great to see you. How’re you doing?’
I smile. ‘Fine thanks.’
Per glances at me. ‘Do you know him?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t think so. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. First thing.’
‘I’m going to swim with the Amazons.’ When his hand stiffens I squeeze it. ‘I have to be competent in time for Palau.’
The sun disappears. A few minutes later, just as we get to the pool, the rain comes back—a drenching shower that soaks our hair. Per runs his thumb along my lip when we stand at the top of the steps. I press his frown lines smooth. I feel sick and my heart is thumping as I hang onto the railing and walk down the steps. But when I extend my arms the water holds me up, and I swim with my head above it. After a while I duck dive, and swim a few strokes underwater. That worries Per because he refuses to be more than an arm’s length away, and it’s difficult to spot me in the deep end.
Occasional waves flow over the rocks. We hang on to the edge of the pool and hold our breaths. We’re covered with foamy whitewash, and our bodies are tossed around.
Per is behind me with his hand on my waist. ‘Give me your word that you won’t do this with the Amazons,’ he says.
I turn, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. His salty taste is addictive. ‘I promise.’
After we leave the pool we walk back along the beach and stop near the rock shelf at the northern end. I’m not ready to brave the surf yet so we sit on hard sand near the break. Per is behind me. He wraps his arms around my middle as occasional waves lap against our feet. We watch the ocean together. The colours of the sea and sky merge on the horizon—when I turn and look into his eyes I find the same shades there.
‘What are you looking at?’ he says.
I smile. ‘Do you appreciate how nautical your eye colour is?’ I count on my fingers. ‘Steel, gunmetal, cadet, battleship, silver.’
‘Nice.’
When I nibble along his jawline and put my hand on his thigh, he stands and hauls me to my feet. We’re kissing hungrily and tugging at each other’s wetsuits by the time we get to the deck. I spread towels and cushions on the floorboards in the living room and even though I’m shivering I keep the doors to the deck open, so we can hear the waves crashing on the shore and the sounds of the wind whipping through the trees. I straddle him, and before long we’re wild and ferocious like the stormiest of seas.
‘You taste like the ocean,’ I say.
After we shower again and go back to bed, I lay on his chest and we kiss slowly and lazily. When I nuzzle his neck he rolls me over and runs his hands and mouth over my body, as if everything is new and he has to chart it over again. He murmurs against my breast when we finally collapse, our warm limbs entangled.
‘We have to talk,’ he says. ‘Plan.’
I yawn and close my eyes. I stroke his hair, damp with sweat. ‘Later.’
‘It scares me, leaving you.’
‘What do you mean?’
He doesn’t answer for a while, and when he finally speaks I can barely hear him. His words are slurred with sleep.
‘Du er trøbbel.’
I’m not sure whether it’s the dream that wakes me, or the landline phone jangling in the kitchen. We’re in my bed. Per was hugging my back when I went to sleep. He’s still behind me, but now he’s leaning over my shoulder. It must be midafternoon, and it’s finally stopped raining. Weak rays of sunlight creep into the room either side of the blind.
He strokes my hair, and speaks quietly. ‘Harriet? What were you dreaming about?’
If I had been dreaming about the accident, I might have told him about it. But I was dreaming about him, diving under a wave and never resurfacing. I was running along the beach, calling his name.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
I can’t see him but I hear his indrawn breath. ‘When I get back,’ he says, ‘I’ll take you to someone I know—a post-traumatic stress psych. You can’t go on like this.’
I roll over and face him, pulling up the sheet to cover my breasts. He makes an exasperated sound, but then he strokes my arm, circling my wrist with his fingers. He’s perfectly comfortable being naked. His chest is broad and smooth, his stomach flat.
‘I don’t want to see someone you know,’ I say. ‘I’m doing well on my own.’
He narrows his eyes. ‘You’re not on …’ He pulls himself up mid-sentence. He’s clearly reluctant to argue with me, but he’s not prepared to capitulate totally. ‘Just tell me about your dream then. Before I go.’
‘I said no.’
He’s reaching for me when the phone rings again. I scurry to the end of the bed, taking the sheet with me. He heads me off, and puts a hand on my arm.
‘Leave the phone.’
Our eyes meet. His are guarded. He’s not sure what I’m up to. Neither am I. It’s tempting to fold myself into his arms and let him take care of me and tell me what to do. But that wouldn’t make me happy, not for long. I was awake for ages thinking about what he’d said before he went to sleep, that he was afraid to leave me alone.
I force myself to say the words. ‘Will you tell the professor I can go to Palau?’
His lips firm. ‘It’s too early to decide.’
‘I need to know now, to settle things with work, and Drew.’
‘Before this morning you had no chance of going. Why the hurry now?’
‘Why not? The documentary producer is finalising the schedule. And it’ll give me something to work towards while you’re gone. I’ll swim with the Amazons for the next two weeks, and with Liam if he has time. Please, Per. You have to tell Tan.’
He runs his fingers through his hair and massages the back of his neck. He growls his words.
‘Don’t do this, Harriet. Not today.’ When he puts my hair behind my ears I have to use all my willpower to pull away and wriggle off the bed.
‘I want to get dressed,’ I say. ‘I have things to do.’
He silently watches as I struggle to keep the sheet around me. I must be moving too awkwardly to stare at for long though, because he puts on his thermals, and gets his suit carrier out of the car. By the time I’m dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt he’s wearing black trousers and a crisp white shirt. There are golden stripes on each of his shoulders. Even though he hasn’t tucked the shirt in, or done up the top couple of buttons—and his shoes are in his hand—he’s back in commander mode.
When our eyes meet in the hallway I’m certain our thoughts are the same. We’re not wearing wetsuits, or naked. The rules have changed about touching each other.
Half an hour later, Per is eating his sandwich. I’m picking at mine. He makes an effort to converse.
‘We’re doing a joint operation off the east coast of Tasmania. Half the Australian fleet will be there, and a number of US Destroyers. Fourteen days straight.’
‘That’ll be cold,’ I say. ‘Being that far south.’
‘I’ll be in Darwin next month. That’s warm. Meet me there?’
‘I’ll be busy. End of term. And Palau.’
He reaches across the table and takes my sandwich. It flusters me when he holds my gaze as he bites all the places I’ve nibbled at. Finally he drains his coffee. He bangs his mug on the table so loudly that I jump.
‘I have to report to Balmoral,’ he says, giving me a stiff smile. ‘But I’ll be back here around eight. Maybe you’ll have found your voice by then, and your appetite.’
‘I’ve got something on.’
‘Cancel it.’
‘It’s for the foundation. Potential sponsors will be there. We need their money to finance The Adélie.’
He pushes his chair back and stalks to the back doors, opening them wider like he needs the air. Then he steadies his breathing, and faces me.
‘Were your parents obsessed with the foundation like you are? Putting it above everything else in their lives?’
‘I’m committed, not obsessed. And the foundation didn’t exist until just before Dad died.’
‘You father put all his personal assets into it, didn’t he?’
I hesitate. ‘Most of them, yes.’
‘My lawyer looked into what happened. You were eighteen. Your father was wealthy. But all he left you was the apartment in Newport, and a few thousand dollars in your bank account. Not enough to last until you’d finished your degree. Drew had to help you out.’
I don’t respond.
‘You work two jobs now, but only get paid for one. And all your teaching income goes into paying your mortgage.’
‘The foundation supports causes I believe in. Most of its workers are volunteers.’
‘You’re exploited. You didn’t have a choice about the way you grew up, but you don’t have to live that life now.’
‘I had a wonderful childhood. And I enjoy my life now. None of this is any of your business.’
‘You’ve made it my business.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘Have dinner with me.’
‘I told you, I’m busy.’
His patience evaporates. He’s ramrod straight. He balls his hands into fists. When he speaks his voice is glacier cold.
‘Why did you have sex with me?’
I study my hands. My fingers twist together.
‘Well?’
I was desperate to hold you inside me.
I can’t tell him that. He didn’t even want to have sex with me the first time we did it. He thinks I behave recklessly, impulsively. He thinks I’m vulnerable.
I swallow. ‘I was happy about holding my breath, I guess. And—’
‘Were they thankyou fucks?’
‘What …? No!’
‘What sort then?’
I don’t want to think about what sort of sex it was, any more than I want to think about the image
of our little boy with dark hair.
When the phone rings I race for it, snatching the receiver like a lifeline. ‘Hello!’
‘Harry,’ Professor Tan says. ‘Where have you been all day? I need to talk to you about The Watch, and about Drew.’
Per gets up from the table after I hang up the phone. ‘What was that about?’ he says.
‘Professor Tan wants me to meet him on Monday night.’
‘You’re upset.’
‘I’m not.’ There was a steely note in Tan’s voice that I haven’t heard for a while. It makes me uneasy. I clear my throat. ‘I have things to organise before I go out tonight, that’s all.’
Per washes our plates and mugs while I pick up the towels and cushions strewn on the living room floor. When he’s ready to leave he stands in front of me. His face is drawn. ‘Kiss me goodbye,’ he says. ‘You owe me that.’
I’ve hurt him. I owe him far more. He’s standing stiffly to attention with his hands by his sides. I’m on tiptoes because that’s the only way I can reach his mouth. My hands are on his chest. He’s warm, and his heart is thumping. After a while the feel and the scent and the taste of him fills my senses.
He scowls when he pulls me closer, lining our bodies up. ‘It would be impossible to overstate how furious I am with you,’ he says. ‘Rasende.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Furious.’
Jonty interrupts us, clumping up the back steps.
‘Hey, Harry. Where were you today?’
Per glares at Jonty, takes my hand and drags me to the front door, slamming it behind us. When he kisses me his mouth is hard, unyielding. I stroke his face to imprint his features on my mind. I don’t want him to play war games off the coast of Tasmania, where the seas are rough and cold. I want him to stay safe in my bed with me. No sooner has the thought entered my mind than he straightens. He swipes his thumb over my bottom lip, and then he walks away.
CHAPTER
33
Professor Tan opens the door to his office on Monday evening, thirty minutes after our scheduled appointment. Last time I was here Per arrived late. All weekend I’ve been trying to get him out of my mind. The happiness I feel about holding my breath is tempered by the unhappiness I feel about him going away. Two weeks at sea.