Fortnight of Fear Read Online Free Page B

inside of the house seemed to be a continuation of the bleak coastal scenery that Gil could see through the windows. Apart from the houseplants there were no ornaments. The few pictures on the walls were lean, spare drawings of naked men and women, faceless most of them. Gil had the feeling that the house didn’t actually belong to Anna, that it had been occupied by dozens of different people, none of whom had left their mark on it. It was a house of no individuality whatsoever. An anxious house, at the very end of a cul-de-sac that fronted the beach. The gray brick sidewalks were always swirled with gritty gray sand. The wind blew like a constant headache.
    They made love over and over again. They went for walks on the beach, the collars of their coats raised up against the stinging sand. They ate silent meals of cold meat and bread and cold white wine. They listened to Mozart in other rooms. On the third morning Gil woke up and saw that Anna was awake already, and watching him. He reached out and stroked her hair.
    â€œThis is the day I have to go home,” he told her, his voice still thick from sleeping.
    She took hold of his hand and squeezed it. “Can’t youmanage one more day? One more day and one more night?”
    â€œI have to go home. I promised Margaret. And I have to be back behind my desk on Monday morning.”
    She lowered her head so that he couldn’t see her face. “You know that – if you go – we will never be able to see each other any more.”
    Gil said nothing. It hurt too much to think that he might never sleep with Anna again in the whole of his life. He eased himself out from under the quilt, and walked through to the bathroom. He switched on the light over the basin and inspected himself. He looked tired. Well, anybody would be, after two days and three nights of orgiastic sex with a woman like Anna. But there was something else about his face which made him frown, a different look about it. He stared at himself for a long time but he couldn’t decide what it was. He filled the basin with hot water and squirted a handful of shaving-foam into his hand.
    It was only when he lifted his hand toward his face that he realized he didn’t need a shave.
    He hesitated, then he rinsed off the foam and emptied the basin. He must have shaved last night, before he went to bed, and forgotten about it. After all, they had drunk quite a lot of wine. He went to the toilet, and sat down, and urinated in quick fits and starts. It was only when he got up and wiped himself by passing a piece of toilet-paper between his legs that he realized what he had done.
I never sit down to pee. I’m not a woman
.
    Anna was standing in the bathroom doorway watching him. He laughed. “I must be getting old, sitting down to pee.”
    She came up to him and put her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was a long, complicated, yearning kiss. When he opened his eyes again she was staring at him very close up. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “Not yet, Icouldn’t bear it. Give me one more day. Give me one more night.”
    â€œAnna … I can’t. I have a family; a job.”
    With the same directness she had exhibited in the bar of the Amstel Hotel, she came up to him and put her arms around him, kissing his neck and his shoulders. His reaction was immediate. “Don’t go,” she repeated, “I’ve been waiting so long for somebody like you … I can’t bear to lose you just yet. One more day, one more night. You can catch the evening flight on Monday and be back in England before nine.”
    He kissed her. He knew that he was going to give in.
    That day, they walked right down to the edge of the ocean. A dog with wet bedraggled fur circled around and around, yapping at them. The wind from the North Sea was relentless. When they returned to the house, Gil felt inexplicably exhausted. Anna undressed him and helped him up to the