Chapter 7

Emma stood over her husband.  Her blouse was still unbuttoned.  Her bra was twisted downwards beneath her breasts.  Jones had frantically unwrapped her like a present on Christmas morning.  Her knickers were scrunched into her right hand.  She was breathless but was breathing heavily through a huge grin.  He was breathing heavily too.  It was surprising how much blood he’d lost from what seemed an innocuous wound just minutes earlier.  She thought it was typical that he couldn’t even injure himself and die with any dignity.  Clearly still alive and conscious his eyes were fixed on the ceiling.  She straddled him and dropped her weight onto his chest.  He gasped as if winded and then shuddered.  It was similar to the ejaculatory shudder she’d just witnessed from William Jones. 

 

She leaned towards him.  Her elbows resting by his ears.  Nose to nose.  A twisted re-enactment of the intimacy they had shared decades previously.  Her breasts rested on his chest.  It certainly wasn’t the first time, although it had been many years since they were so physically close.  She had never felt so powerfully in control though.  She licked her lips.  She was close enough to lick his but could think of nothing more repellent; “My Goodness.  You wouldn’t believe the things that man can do with his cock.  His tongue too for that matter.  Never really one of your areas of expertise was it”.  She smiled and looked at him.  Really looked at him.  It had been a long time since she’d done that.  She sat up, adjusted her bra and began to button her blouse.

Jones, fastening his trousers, walked past her to the bay window at the front of the house; “They’re just parking”.  He walked to the front door, opened it and returned to Emma and her increasingly pale husband.  Jones couldn’t understand why he had been so passive.  He’d acted on a desire to fuck her but, once she’d arrived, not felt any need to help the man or give the appearance of wanting to.  Ten minutes ago it seemed like a minor injury but now it was clear this guy was seriously fucked.  He dropped to the sofa.  Whatever happened it wouldn’t impact on him.  Apart from being late for work.

Emma stood, shoved her knickers into her pocket, and turned to the door as the paramedics raced in.  “Oh, thank you for getting here so quickly”.  They seemed to have little interest in her and knelt by her husband and began work.  It was no mystery.  There was a lot of blood and it was very clearly coming from his foot. 

She sat next to Jones.  As she arrived at the house she had been listing to Matt Monro singing ‘On days like these’.  On days like these I wonder what became of you.  She truly had loved him once.  Or the idea of him.  Or the person she thought he was.  Unfortunately, she had consistently failed to add new information to her initial impression of him until it became realistic.  When it was too late she suddenly found that all of his once charming characteristics had come to be those that she loathed.  Even before Jessica was born it was apparent that they were two people uniquely ill suited to being in a relationship with each other.  Motherhood hadn’t rescued her.  Being a parent to an increasingly insightful and indifferent child was lonely and boring.  For too many years life had been grim, miserable and boring.  Boring is what it is looking at a small child all day.  She was powerless to escape him.  People refer to relationships fizzling out.  This one hadn’t.  It had become malignant and eaten its way through all three of them.  It was annoying that he had brought about its end by fucking someone younger than most of his wardrobe.

She pondered on a life with Jones who, from previous contact, she knew to be the antithesis of her husband.  Alternatively, she could use him for extensive fucking sessions.  Perhaps the sex wouldn’t be the same if it didn’t have to completed before the arrival of the emergency services.  She had no interest in becoming emotionally close to him because that may lead to a repetition of mistakes that led to the end of the marriage.       

The paramedics seemed to be increasingly anxious.  She’d imagined they’d load him in the ambulance and be on their way but his newly discovered talent for bleeding was presenting them with something of a challenge.  She turned to Jones; “He was a pleaser.  He wanted everybody to admire and adore him and say how wonderful he was.  He went to great lengths to get that but you could not criticise him in any way.  He’s got some serious, serious issues and problems that he keeps so far under wraps.  I think that’s his way of suppressing it all is by seeking approval and adulation.  He used to say ‘There’s you, my mum and Jessica and you’re the only women who’re worth anything’.  That was how he viewed the world; You’re either a worthy person or you’re absolute shit.  Wrongly he viewed himself as a wonderful person full of insight, philosophy and poetic references but in reality he was a shit full of wankery and bits of information he’d picked up from five minutes of listening to Radio4.  The girl he fucked was clearly a younger, female version of himself.  Fucked him in a moment of boredom and moved on.  We would have bumbled along for a couple more years probably both fairly miserably.  It all seems to have left me feeling very empty, emotionally empty.  It’s been so long since I’ve felt like I’m me.  I’ve felt so defined by him”.  She stopped.  She stopped because the two paramedics had also stopped.  They were listening to her.  They normally saw a little more concern, anxiety and empathy from the loved ones of the patient.     

“He doesn’t seem to be dead yet” said Jones.  “You’re referring to him in the past tense”.

Then the bleeder spoke.  Not a word since she’d left him to enjoy coitus fantasticus with Jones and suddenly he croaked “Everything that I am and everything that I have I owe to you”.  His voice sounded like he was gargling sawdust. 

The paramedics looked at Emma.

 “Oh do fuck off.  Even now you can’t just talk like a normal person”.

His face relaxed and he turned and looked at Jones; “Good luck mate.  Now that you’ve swapped spit with her you’ll never shake her off”.

Jones was stunned.  This was too weird; you’re heading to work, some wanker blocks your car in, he appears in his undies, cuts his foot to shreds, you break into a house, his ex-wife appears, you fuck her against the neighbour’s banister and then sit and watch him die while she daydreams and they exchange insults.  He shot up from the sofa, “Jesus.  Your daughter must be seriously fucked up with you two as parents”.  He headed for the door as one of the paramedics said “She must be in shock, sir.  I don’t think comments like that will help”.

He loitered for a second but was starting to panic; “Sorry, I’ve got a habit of calling a spade a spade.   If something needs to be said, it needs to be said and I don’t shy away from it but I’m only here cus I saw the guy needed help.  I’m too soft, I’m too generous.  I will willingly sacrifice my needs for the needs of others, I can’t walk past somebody in distress”.    

Emma waved her hand to usher him further out of the door, “No one needs to worry about our daughter.  She’s very old for her years, very mature and has had to deal with things little girls shouldn’t have to deal with.  It may seem bizarre but I think this’ll have a very good impact on her.  Mmm, that reminds me”.  She opened the contacts on her mobile, pressed J and Jessica’s number appeared amongst a small list.  She pressed her name.  It went straight to voicemail.  “Hello Jessica darling.  It’s 8.35 on Thursday morning.  Your father seems to be bleeding to death.  The paramedics will probably take him to The QE.  You should pop along there with some urgency”.