Lifesaver by Louise Voss Read Free Book Online Page A

contemplating removing the quilt from its cover altogether, but feeling too exhausted to do so.
    ‘Thought I’d find you here,’ Ken said, coming into the room and sitting heavily on the bed to kiss me. He smelled like a photocopier salesman, of lager, trains and Xeroxed reports, and his mouth was warm and stale against my lips. I was pleased to see him, though, and tentatively reached out my toothpaste-fresh tongue to meet his. Perhaps I wasn’t so tired, after all…
    ‘Mmmm,’ he hummed, softly, kissing me back. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get back in time for dinner. There was a leaving drink for Sebastian in promotions, you know? The one who got caught with a topless temp in the conference room that time.’
    ‘Oh right,’ I said, not having a clue who Sebastian was, but deciding that since he had just left the company, there wasn’t much to be gained from admitting so. Ken occasionally talked about his work colleagues, albeit in soundbites, and I always nodded and pretended I remembered who he was talking about. If I was entirely honest, I didn’t even know exactly what Ken did all day, other than have a lot of expensive lunches.
    ‘So what have you been up to today?’ He stood up, peeled off his shirt and threw it towards the laundry basket in the corner. It missed, but he let it lie where it landed.
    ‘I went into London for that audition. You know, for the soap.’
    Instantly full of contrition, he paused in the middle of undoing his shoelaces. ‘Oh, Annie, I’m sorry, I forgot. How did it go?’
    ‘I don’t know, really. The usual. But at least I wasn’t nervous. I didn’t care one way or the other, so we’ll see. It films in Bristol, though, so I’d probably have to get digs there during the week.’
    I waited for him to protest, but he didn’t.
    ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Ring me as soon as Fenella lets you know. By the way, you haven’t forgotten about tomorrow night, have you?’
    I looked blankly at him, frantically scrolling through a mental rolodex of upcoming events. ‘Tomorrow…?’
    He sighed. ‘The Cherries showcase. That band I signed a couple of months ago. ’
    My heart sank: yes, it was all coming back to me now—The Cherries; three nubile coffee-skinned girls with legs up to their nipples and a haughty air of cultivated superiority, at the ripe old age of seventeen. I’d heard the demos and seen the Polaroids: they couldn’t sing, but so what? They looked spectacular.
    ‘It starts at six thirty, so we should have time to grab a curry afterwards, if you want. I don’t think I have to do dinner with them.’
    ‘What shall I wear?’ I asked, out of habit, although I didn’t know why I even bothered asking this question. Not once, in six years of marriage, had I ever received a serious answer. I so longed for Ken to frown, stride across to my wardrobe, pull it open and contemplate its contents: ‘Let’s see now—how about that lovely Whistles dress with your purple boots?’ he’d say, and my dilemma would be instantly solved.
    ‘Oh, go as you are. You look fine,’ he said predictably, slipping his hand underneath the top of my Marks and Spencer's short checked pyjamas. ‘Maybe with stilettos too.’
    He ran his other hand along my bare leg, which was still sticking out from under the duvet. I suspected that he was thinking about me in high heels. His fingers were working magic—thumb and forefinger tracing parallel tracks up and down my thigh in an almost abstracted way. It tickled, and made me shiver. I reached up and touched his face, looking with sympathy at the grey bags under his eyes and the way his thick black hair was sticking damply to his forehead. He’d aged so much in the past year. But then, so had I.
    I pulled him towards me. ‘You look as exhausted as I feel. Perhaps we need to wake ourselves up.’
    He nuzzled into the space between my neck and my shoulder, clinging on to me in a way which was suddenly utterly non-sexual, as if he needed somebody to