The Devil's Playground (35 page)

of hours until he stopped thinking, until all that existed

was the road ahead of him, the music in his head and the

metronomic ticking of the car’s engine.

He ended up in the West End. He parked the car, spent

an hour in HMV, browsing blankly through the shelves,

returning with a couple of CDs under his arm.

But he didn’t feel like getting back in the car. Didn’t want

to roll up the windows, drown out the world, keep moving.

Suddenly that was the last thing he wanted to do. He took

his tape machine and several tapes that were lying around.

He left the car there, aware that it would be towed away first

thing the next morning, and walked into the quivering mass

of Piccadilly Circus.

He walked slowly, watching the young backpacked tourists

standing still for photos, smoking and playing bongos, strolling

around bedazzled by coke signs and speeding buses,

black taxi snakes winding down Regent Street, coffee bars

on every corner where once pubs used to stand filled with

chattering happy people, stopping for a few minutes in the

warmth and light provided, filling up on the smell of coffee

and fresh cigarette smoke before heading back to their lives,

cramping into tubes and standing on buses, keeping hold,

never losing balance, traumatized and pulverized by the time

they finally reached home.

He stopped in a pub off Oxford Street whose walls were

dark with cigarette smoke and exhaled lives. His ankle felt

much better. Almost back to normal. He drank a couple of

whiskies now that he no longer risked being breathalysed

and went back out into the late-evening rush, watching a

group of women, beautiful and elegant as they crossed his

line of vision, smiling and giggling. He felt so damn jealous.

Why can’t I be that happy, that carefree, even some of the

time? And as he walked past them he made a vow to try not

to think of all the things that were missing. That was always

the first, irreversible step. That, and thinking things would

only get better. That was why the women were laughing.

They existed only in the moment.

He turned back and headed for them. They were waiting

at a light. He grabbed the redhead who was standing nearest

to him and kissed her. He thought she would wrench herself

away, kick him in the balls, scream rape — but she didn’t do

any of these things. The light had changed and her friends

were beginning to move away.

he could feel her warmth pound through him

The lights changed again and they uncoupled, .

‘I’m going to tell him when he comes back.’ Suze slumped

back into the soft embrace of the sofa.

“You can’t.’

‘I’m sorry, Dominic, I have to. I can’t stand it any more.’

She got up, reached for her cigarettes on the table. ‘I just

have to. It can’t go on like this.’

“I don’t think it’ll be of benefit to either of you,’ Dominic

said, creeping slowly into his corner, trying somehow to get

a hold of this situation, understanding he was failing.

‘With all respect, I don’t really think it’s any business of

yours.’ She regretted having come.

He leaned forward. She could see the muscles around his

mouth twitch as if they were pulled by invisible cables. She

felt a shiver. ‘If only you knew, Suze.’

‘Knew what?’ She was so exasperated by the little teases

that she’d once found romantic. Now it seemed to her that

he enjoyed the obfuscation and mystery, somehow got off

on the power of things untold.

“I don’t think I can tell you, Suze. I’m not sure you’d

understand.’ He leaned back. Bill brushed by him and settled

at his feet. ‘Especially if you’re going to talk to Jon.’

She stared at him and for the first time she felt frightened.

She sensed that there was something terribly wrong

about the room, the smell, the cramped lighting, something

she just couldn’t place. How well did she really know

Dominic?

She’d come over to his flat with a bottle of wine and a bag

of grass, needing someone to talk to, having spent the last

day under the bedcovers, trying to think of all the ways she’d

fucked up, or of how she’d do it differently if it was hers to

do again. Jon walking into the museum, her seeing him. The

truth from the beginning.

But it didn’t help, this constant chewing over of what was

already done and she’d called Dominic, asked if she could

come round. At first it sounded as though she’d woken him

from some monstrous Rip Van Winkle slumber — he was so

far away he sounded like a radio signal lost in the ether — but

he’d quickly got himself together, said, sure, come round.

Yet there was something in his tone that almost made

her not.

His place was a mess but she didn’t care. She snuggled

down on the sofa and began drinking, knowing that this was

the only way she could really say what she felt. And though

she knew it was probably the wrong thing to do, she’d told

him about Jon, watching his reactions like a lab assistant

peering into a microscope.

He hid it well. But not really well enough. She told him

how they’d just met a couple of weeks ago and how she was

really missing him. She told him of the fight they’d had

though not why it had occurred. Sex was something she

didn’t feel comfortable talking to Dominic about, but everything

else she told him. And she found that in the telling a

deeper desire was revealed, as if she’d held back from

accepting it these last few days, afraid of where it might lead.

She spilled out her heart, spilled a bottle of wine on his carpet, told him she’d never really felt like this before, apologizing all the time for her state, for the carpet and for coming round at such an ungodly hour.

He had to listen to all this, saying, no really, it’s no hassle,

no, the stain won’t even show, it’s perfectly okay, slowly

numbing himself with wine. Every so often he disappeared

into his bedroom, coming out a few minutes later, his face

ashen. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, something

was very wrong here, but now that she’d started she

felt she needed to finish.

And then she’d mentioned Jake. That Jon was here looking

for the reasons behind the old man’s death.

“I was so scared, Dominic. I didn’t say a thing. That we

knew Jake, nothing. He showed me his picture and I pretended

that I’d never seen him before. I was so surprised at

my willingness to enact this deception. I was so scared.’

‘Why, Suze?’ He looked at her, knowing then that she

would never be his, that their lives were destined to pass by

each other, touching only at the periphery.

‘Why? Jesus, Dom! Jake’s dead. Doesn’t that mean anything

any more? Two people from our group are dead. The

same fucking killer. Doesn’t that scare the shit out of you?

Make you think?’ She looked at him but he was gently

stroking the dog, his eyes hooded and downcast. “I just

couldn’t tell him.’

‘Because you wanted to fuck him?’

‘Dominic!’ She felt like punching him. ‘No, that wasn’t

the reason at all. I just liked him, you know, I thought perhaps

there’s something here. I haven’t felt that for a long time.

Yes, Wouter had just chucked me — I wasn’t even thinking

about that. He just looked so helpless that day, I had to save

him from the security guards. And everything, at first, was

so easy with him, so untroubled. And when he mentioned

Jake, it was too late. I knew that if I told him, yes, I knew

Jake, all about the Council — then those things would always

stand between us. They would be there from the very start.

This is how it begins. You know that. Nothing would proceed

as normal. Everything totally fucked up.’

But you knew it would come up.

You couldn’t have

thought you’d keep it hidden from him for ever?’

She shook her head, she could tell that he was enjoying

this. ‘I just thought if we had a couple of weeks to get to

know each other, then I could tell him. And it wouldn’t

matter so much. I didn’t want our first few days together to

be stained with that. I don’t know why he’s so obsessed with

finding what happened to Jake, he knew him even less time

than we did, but I could see that it was something that would

pull him down. And I didn’t want him to know what had

happened. Our involvement in all this.’

Why?’ Dominic tried to appear as cool and collected as

he could though inside he felt a terrible ripping. He could

feel his heart thumping away and he was scared that Suze

would hear it. He thought about what was in the other

room and how he’d saved it just for her. How it was all just

for her.

‘Because there can only be sorrow in it. For him. For all

of us. You know, I’m not very good at gauging people

usually, but with Jon, well…’

‘Are you scared of what he might find?’

‘I just don’t want this relationship to fuck up, not this

time, and I know if he started digging around, uncovering all

those ghastly skeletons, well, I don’t know if that’s the Jon I

want to be with.’

‘Then don’t mention it. Don’t mention anything to him.’

It would be better that way. Better for her and better for his

purposes too. Things were moving fast and he didn’t need

anyone disturbing the flow. Not until the weekend. Then

everything would be different.

‘I have to, Dominic. I have to do it before he finds out

for himself.’

She got up, went to the kitchen, kicked past the doggy

bowl, empty film canisters, data CDs and ashtrays that

littered the floor and poured herself some more wine. ‘The

ironic thing is I don’t even know anything,’ she said, spilling

some of the wine on her shirt, little roses arcing towards

her breasts.

‘Maybe you know more than you think.’ Dominic smiled,

exposing the dark hole of his mouth. He passed her a recently

rolled joint. She took a deep drag and felt her lungs sizzle.

The room began to spin. She’d thought it was weed but she

could taste the crack on her tongue and she took a deep

breath to stop the spin of the room. She felt herself losing

control.

‘What the fuck are you talking about? I wish you’d just be

clearer. You knew Jake better than anyone else. You introduced

him to the Doctor. I always knew there was something

wrong there. I was so stupid not to see it. It was only when I

heard about Beatrice and then I tried to deny it, to deny that

we were in any way involved — but it’s no use. You can’t

deny things. You can’t keep them hidden. I’m such an idiot

for thinking I could but I think I’ve learned now.’

He snorted. ‘Even if it means Jon will never speak to you

again?’

She wanted to say that she wasn’t sure if he ever would as

it was. After that terrible fight, when they were both not

themselves and yet somehow managed to show more of

themselves than they had previously. But she didn’t tell him.

Didn’t want to see the subtle smile of satisfaction that would

suddenly appear on his face and just as quickly be erased.

‘Even if it means that,’ she said.

He moved towards her. She was drunk, didn’t see it

coming. Before she knew it his head was resting on her lap.

She was too far gone to try to move away. She began to

stroke his hair. ‘What happened? Dominic, please tell me.’

His head moved slightly but remained on her lap. ‘I wish

I could, Suze, I really wish I could. Next week. Next week

it’ll all be over.’

She hadn’t expected him to say anything and so she was

not disappointed. She knew that he had introduced Jake to

the Doctor. But perhaps, she now saw, perhaps there was

more to it. She understood that the Doctor had created a

terrible schism in the group in the few meetings he’d

attended. Something, she now thought, they would not

be able to repair. They’d found it shocking for a Jew, a

camp survivor, to talk the way he’d done and yet, when

researching the Charlotte work, she’d come across similar

testimonies — not many and often under-emphasized, existing

in appendices or in miniature at the bottom of the page

as part of a footnote — of others who felt a certain sympathy

with the Germans. She’d heard about the Stockholm Syndrome

but this was different. This put into question everything

they believed in as a group, for if witnessing such

horror only made you a part of it then what was all their

work for?

She felt his hand, cold and smooth, reach under her skirt,

his head still as a stone on her lap. She tried to move, to slide

ever so slightly out of his reach but his hand kept creeping

up, raising goosebumps on her legs.

‘Dominic,’ she said, looking down at him, frightened now,

as his hand rested upon her panties and he swivelled himself

up from her lap and in one swift move placed his lips upon

hers. She could feel his tongue probing her mouth and she

put both her hands on his chest and pushed him away. He