Lifesaver by Louise Voss Read Free Book Online Page B

hold on to; as if I was his mother. I thought again of Max—why had his mother walked out on him? And his poor dad—Adam. Although maybe Adam had met somebody new by now. I hoped that Max got on with her. Could another woman ever replace the warmth of his mother’s arms though?
    ‘What are you thinking?’ Ken was lying on top of me now, kissing my face, back in sex mode. He was sweating, but I felt slow prickles of arousal tingling my skin, like a distant memory of pleasure. We so rarely made love anymore.
    ‘Nothing,’ I said, sliding my hand into his trousers and banishing Max.
    We fooled around for a while in silence, but instead of getting more lost in it, I could tell that Ken was becoming less. He hopped out of bed and peeled off the rest of his clothes and then, as if he needed the extra stimulus, rummaged around in the wardrobe (oh, if only he could do so when I needed his advice on what to wear!) and produced my highest and shiniest pair of stilettos. He reached under the duvet for my feet and crammed them into the shoes, before flopping back in bed beside me, smiling faintly with anticipation. Me wearing high heels in bed was his biggest turn-on. At least, of the turn-ons he’d admit to, anyway. I didn’t mind—it was pretty sexy when you were in the mood.
    I dragged my spiky heels dutifully along his chest for a couple of minutes, but I could tell that he was feeling anxious and unrelaxed again, and this in turn made me lose any desire I’d started out with. I tried to get it back for both of us, to make him want me; whispering sweet nothings, stroking him and kissing the prickly bit on the side of his neck, touching him—but his erection had vanished, and I felt faintly foolish, as if my touch was inappropriate and embarrassing.
    ‘What’s the matter, baby?’ I said.
    He instantly rolled off me, as if I’d given him permission to stop, and lay on his back, his arms crossed over his face.
    ‘I can’t,’ he said, his voice muffled. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I replied, but at the same time tears tightened behind my eyes. Suddenly I wanted to get out of that stuffy, sad bedroom. I kicked off the shoes, flung back the bedclothes, grabbed my dressing gown and ran downstairs, unlocking the back door and walking into the night air. It felt good to stand on the cold grass of the lawn, my hot bare feet connecting with the damp musky earth and the scratch of the patchy stalks.
    I could hear the faint sound of rap emanating from the house whose garden backed on to ours. Must be coming from the teenage daughter’s bedroom—her parents certainly didn’t look the types who would be into a bit of Ja Rule, I thought vaguely.
    I wondered if Holly would ever have got into rap. Would Ken and I have been the sort of parents to shout at her to turn it down, she was disturbing the neighbours? Or would we have remembered our own teenage years; the importance of one’s small acts of rebellion and liberation: the covert cigarettes out of the bedroom window, the unsuitable outfits, the clandestine fumblings with the dozens of frogs necessary before you found your prince. If we did ever have any more children, I decided I’d prefer a boy. You didn’t fear so much for boys.
    Even as I thought this, I knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps Ken was right, to be so scared of going through it all again. What if we did have another baby, actually succeeded in giving life, only to find out that he or she was to develop leukaemia like Max had? There was no way we could go to another funeral with another small white coffin.
    Ken came out and walked towards me, back in his boxer shorts. He put his arms around me and pulled me towards him. His skin was almost burning hot, and the thick hairs on his chest felt comforting.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘It’s not that I don’t fancy you, or want you. You know that, don’t you?’
    ‘I know,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry.’
    We stood in