On My Knees by Tristram La Roche Read Free Book Online

through the traffic, I realized that I couldn’t see through the windscreen. It wasn’t my eyes, red and swollen from the crying, but tree sap smeared on the glass. I switched on the wipers, and the red taillights in front blurred into crimson wraiths. For once, the washer bottle wasn’t empty and I soon had a clear line of sight. But to where? I had nowhere to go.
    It was then that I remembered the slip of paper in my pocket. I drove with one hand on the wheel and one eye on the traffic, and studied the address under the reading light. I checked the map and set off towards Westminster Bridge. I didn’t need to go there, of course, but Alex’s advice was usually sound. And I was curious. In any event, I could always leave once I’d seen what it was all about. What else was I going to do while I waited for Attila’s call?
    Once south of the Thames I had to stop and check my route. The South Bank was not my territory, all railways and fly-overs and bridges it seemed to me. Even in daylight I saw it as dark but now, after nightfall and in the drizzle, the blackness seemed pervasive. I found the street and a parking space not far away. The pavement was slimy as the rain loosened days of grime, and I picked my way through the debris of the earlier street market with care.
    As I neared my destination, I recognized the scent of Olbas oil in the air. A torrent of steam billowed into the night sky, the steel vent sharp against the green moss on the old engineering bricks. Next to the vent I could see the railway arch, now filled in with a rudimentary façade of lavender-painted timber illuminated by overhead lamps. The obscure glass windows were covered with iron grilles, softened by the dirt of the city. I took a few steps forward then waited while a guy in a hoodie rang the bell at the side of the door. I could hear the buzzing of the entry system and he pushed the door and stepped inside.
    My heart pounded against my ribcage and my head throbbed as I started again towards the door. I knew this was the place; the limp rainbow flag over the doorway was a giveaway, yet I still worried. What if it wasn’t the place? What if I stepped inside and it was someone’s workshop?
    Just before I rang the bell, the door jolted open and a middle-aged man slipped out, his eyes cast down at the pavement as he passed me, pulling up his collar, and hurried down the street. I put my hand out to stop the door closing, took a deep breath, and went inside.
    I found myself in a lobby that two people would have overcrowded. To my left was a counter topped by a glass screen, from behind which I was being scrutinized by a tall, muscular guy. He wore a red gym vest and the overhead light reflected off his shaved head.
    “Hi,” he said, leaning on the counter. His bulging arms were tattooed from his shoulders down to his wrists. I thought of gorgonzola. “You been before?”
    I shook my head as I tried to find the words. “No.”
    “OK,” he said, placing a towel and a key in front of him. “Can I just be sure that you know this is a gay sauna?”
    “Yes.” This was what Alex’s friend had come up with so that I could try it out ?
    He rattled the computer keyboard. “Can I have your first name?”
    My name? No, certainly not. “John,” I said, sure he’d disbelieve me.
    “That’s twelve pounds, please…John,” he said with a smile as he typed in the name.
    I pushed the money through the gap at the bottom of the screen and he squeezed the towel through to me.
    “Locker 26,” he said. “You’ll find your way about. Just go through that door.”
    “Thanks.” I took the key from him. I heard the latch buzz and snatched the door open, as eager to escape the outside world as I was to enter this new one. The door slammed shut behind me, and all heads turned momentarily in my direction. I was paralyzed.
    The air was stifling - hot and wet. Faithless throbbed out of the overhead speakers. Everywhere I looked were men. Men in suits, men