Antarctica Read Free Page A

My bag’s in the lobby.’
    ‘Come to my place. I’ll get you a taxi, see you off.’
    She wasn’t in the mood for sex. In her mind she had already packed up and left, was facing her husband inthe doorway. She felt clean and full and warm; all she wanted now was a good snooze on the train. But in the end she could think of no reason not to go and, yielding like a parting gift to him, said yes.
    They retreated from the darkness of the woods, walked down Vicar’s Close and emerged below the moat near the hotel. The seagulls were inland. They hovered above the water fowl, swooping down and snapping up the bread a bunch of Americans were throwing to the swans. She collected her suitcase and walked the slippery streets to his place. The rooms were cold. Yesterday’s dirty dishes lay soaking in the sink, a rim of greasy water on the steel. Remnant daylight filtered through gaps between the curtains, but he did not turn a light on.
    ‘Come here,’ he said. He took his jacket off and knelt before her. He unlaced her boots, undid the knots slowly, peeled her stockings off, eased her underwear down around her ankles. He stood up and took her coat off, opened her blouse carefully, admired the buttons, unzipped her skirt, slid her watch down over her hand. Then he reached up under her hair and took her earrings out. They were dangly earrings, gold leaves her husband had given her for their anniversary. He stripped her as if he had all the time in the world. She felt like a child being put to bed. She didn’t have to do anything to him, for him. No duties, all she had to do was be there.
    ‘Lie back,’ he said.
    Naked, she fell back into the goose-down.
    ‘I could go to sleep,’ she said, shutting her eyes.
    ‘Not yet,’ he said.
    The room was cold, but he was sweating; she could smell his sweat. He pinned her wrists back above her head with one hand and kissed her throat. A drop of sweat fell on to her neck. A drawer opened and something jingled. Handcuffs. She was startled, but did not think fast enough to object.
    ‘You’ll like this,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’
    He bound her wrists to the brass bed-head. A section of her mind panicked. There was something deliberate about him, something silent and overpowering. More sweat fell on her. She tasted the tangy salt on his skin. He retreated and advanced, made her ask for it, made her come.
    He got up. He went out and left her there, handcuffed to the headboard. The kitchen light came on. She smelled coffee, heard him breaking eggs. He came in with a tray and sat over her.
    ‘I have to –’
    ‘Don’t move.’ He said it very quietly. He was dead calm.
    ‘Take these off –’
    ‘Shhhhh,’ he said. ‘Eat. Eat before you go.’ He extended a bite of scrambled egg on a fork and she swallowed it. It tasted of salt and pepper. She turned her head. The clock read 5:32.
    ‘Christ, look at the time –’
    ‘Don’t swear,’ he said. ‘Eat. And drink. Drink this. I’ll get the keys.’
    ‘Why won’t you –’
    ‘Just take a drink. Come on. I drank with you, remember ?’
    Still handcuffed, she drank the coffee he tilted from the mug. It only took a minute. A warm, dark feeling spread over her and then she slept.
    *
    When she woke, he was standing in the harsh fluorescent light, dressing. She was still handcuffed to the bed. She tried to speak. She was gagged. One of her ankles, too, was bound to the foot of the bed with another pair of handcuffs. He continued dressing, clipping the studs of his denim shirt closed.
    ‘I have to go to work,’ he said, tying his bootlaces. ‘It can’t be helped.’
    He went out, came back in with a basin. ‘In case you need it,’ he said, leaving it on the bed. He tucked her in and kissed her then, a quick, normal kiss, and turned the light out. He stopped in the hall and turned to face her. His shadow loomed over the bed. Her eyes were very big and pleading. She was reaching out to him with her eyes. He held his hands out,